Divided We Fall
by Bloody-Aliice
Summary: Who said there were no girls on Neverland? Who said Peter Pan ruled over this world on his own? On the other side of the island, far from the mermaid lagoon, the echo cave and the skull rock – that's where Mercy and her girls lived. Because behind every great man there is an even greater woman, what would the king be without his queen?
1. Chapter 1

The delicate rustling of the leaves lulled them, making it hard not to fall asleep. They were surrounded by dark – night had fallen hours ago and there was no way to tell what time it was. The girls, however, knew better than to give in to their exhaustion and allow themselves to doze off, unbeknownst to anyone but them. Somehow, She always knew. There was no hiding anything from Her. One of them moved her weigh from one food to the other but this movement alone made a lot of noise in the middle of a tranquil night. The girl to her left gave her a worried glance and it seemed to wake them all up. No, they couldn't fall asleep, they had to keep an eye open and watch camp for the night. Once a week the camp's safety was in their hands, they could not disappoint Her.

"Report."

It was an all too familiar voice, one that sent shills down the girls' spine and inspired a mixture of awe and fear. She was as nurturing as she was fierce; no one in their right mind would consider getting on Her bad side.

"It's been quiet all night," one of the girls said, her voice a little raspy. They hadn't uttered a single word in hours and the stiflingly hot air of the jungle had them suffocating and thirsty.

"Night's far from being over. If a Lost Boy so much as steps on our land, I want him to run back to camp with an arrow through his leg," She told them, leaving no room for argument. She had trained them for this. "They came raiding our camp one too many times lately, methinks they need a little reminder who rules this part of the island."

"We won't disappoint you," the girl who moved earlier spoke up, looking up at their leader with glowing eyes, sweat trickling down between her brows and feet unsteady on the humid ground.

She turned towards the brave girl and stood before her a long while, minutely watching her, scrutinizing her.

"I expect not," She eventually said before disappearing in the night.

A collective sigh fell from the four girls on watch and suddenly, they didn't feel too hot anymore – cold, fear induced sweat now covered their back.

Mercy reappeared on the highest spot of her territory and scouted her surroundings, squinting her eyes to try and see if the Lost Boys' campfire was still lit. Everything was eerily still – she didn't like it. The island was fast asleep for the first time in what felt like forever, yet she found herself unable to get any shut eye that night. Be it because she wanted to savor that peaceful night or because her own paranoia prevented her from sleeping, that was another question. For now, all she could do was to help her girls make sure the camp was safe.

Peter Pan. His name, although she hadn't pronounced it in ages, always left a bitter taste in her mouth – after a while she figured that this must be what hatred and contempt tasted like. There was something else too, that feeling lingered on her tongue whenever she talked with her girls. The tangible terror she inspired to all of them – even though it was one of the things she most despised about Pan, she realized it was a necessary thing to make sure her soldiers stood in line and remained loyal and obedient.

All the power this authority gave her was exhilarating and more often than not, Mercy had to remind herself not to turn into the monster He became. He still had tremendous power over her – more than the power he was actually deploying to keep on her Neverland. Sometimes she wondered why he didn't use more of it, because she knew he could, she knew she left before he could teach her how to use all of her power. What was holding him back? Was this a part of a bigger scheme? All these unanswered questions were probably the reason behind her insomnia and paranoia. All the more reason to have the girls take turns to watch over the camp at night, when they were the most vulnerable.

There was only one thing her girls couldn't fight off. One lurid thing that was too incorporeal for them to combat. The Shadow.

From the corner of her eye, Mercy saw its moving silhouette fly between the trees, silently making its way toward her. Her hands clenched into fists each side of her body – she hated this, she hated herself for this. It felt like a betrayal – towards her girls, who trusted her, and towards herself.

"What do you want?!" She spat at the dark form floating in the air a couple meters in front of her, out of arm's reach and over the precipice.

It didn't answer. It never answered her harsh questions or colorful curses. She knew who sent it – over and over again, almost every night, for the last eternity. Because that was how long she had been there - an eternity.

Its ghostly hand pulled a flower seemingly out of nowhere and it stretched its arm out for Mercy to take the gift. She remembered in vivid details the first time this happened, she remembered she screamed and attacked the shadow relentlessly for hours until she was too exhausted to keep going, she remembered that the flower didn't suffer any damage from her fireballs and still glowed its gentle blue color, she remembered reluctantly accepting the offering and crying for the rest of the night.

She was alone back then, none of the Lost Girls had come yet. Now she wasn't alone anymore, so why was this oppressing loneliness weighting on her shoulders? An eternity later nothing had changed. To this day she still did the exact same thing – she reached out, took the splendid flower from the Shadow and waited until it disappeared into the night before collapsing on the rocky ground and crying, just crying.

000

She was the one exception – the only one in centuries, the only one in forever. Peter Pan didn't make exceptions, he was known to be a treacherous, ruthless leader and showed cruelty rather than mercy. His army was solely composed of young clueless boys - young enough for him to mold and shape the type of person they will become, and clueless enough to do it without them realizing it. Soon, his Lost Boys became cruel too, in their own way, even if his own viciousness could hardly be topped. Like any power-thirsty king, Peter Pan wanted more and more, always more power. There was never enough, never enough authority, or power, control, never enough enemies to defeat or magic to learn.

Neverland, as practical and symbiotic it was, was limited. It was surrounded by gallons and gallons of water, going as far as eye can see. There was no land to conquer, no enemies to challenge his authority. He was bored – like any child who had grown tired of their toys, he wanted new ones.

Peter Pan regularly left Neverland and wandered from village to village in the Enchanted Forest, searching for more innocent souls to corrupt and lure on his doomed island where everything and everyone stood still – frozen in time and space.

He was known under another name in the Enchanted Forest, though there was whispers about the identity of the boy who took kids from their parents, stole them right out of their little beds. The Pied Piper they called him and nobody knew where this curious name came from.

One day, Mercy found out though, but she was never able to go back and tell anyone. A pull stronger than anything she had ever experienced forced her to get out of her tiny bed, it compelled her to leave her room and she barely managed to slip on her shoes and throw a coat on top of her night gown before her feet dragged her out of her room and silently walked down the stairs. It was like they had a will of their own – they managed to reach the ground floor without stepping on any of the creaking wooden steps, something that Mercy couldn't even achieve when she tried.

Soon she was outside. She used both her hands to hold her coat closed and the freezing autumn wind made her eyes tear up but she couldn't fight off the urge to walk forward, closer, always closer to the mesmerizing sound that came from deep into the woods.

Before she knew it, she was in a small clearing with a bonfire in the middle. Around the flames were half a dozen boys of different ages – though all younger than she was – dancing madly to the tune. Once again guided by her feet, Mercy joined them. She didn't know how to dance but her body instinctively followed the music, her hair twirling around her as she spun in circles, her arms drawing invisible patterns in the air. Time was suspended – she lost track of it the moment she joined the dance. Her mind was foggy but at peace, she was one with her dancing companions despite not knowing any of them.

Everything came to an abrupt halt. Mercy's arm fell down to the side of her body and she looked around, wondering how she even got here in the first place.

"Look boys, we have an unsuspected guest," someone said. "What a treat! Here I thought tonight would be fruitless."

"Who are you?" Mercy questioned immediately, wary of this boy.

He was the only one wearing decent clothes and not dancing. In his hands there was a pied piper and immediately, she knew. She knew who he was and she knew that tonight was the last time she ever saw her village. In the morning her parents would wake up to an empty bed, like the parents of the boys around the bonfire.

"You'll know soon enough," he simply told her with a sly smile that she would never forget. Every time she heard his voice, Mercy would associate it with this twisted smile and it made her shiver. "For now, I ask the questions and you answer."

The boys suddenly resumed their mad dance, but Mercy heard no music.

"You can't hear it for now, I want to have a private conversation. Now tell me, who are _you_? The possibility of you being a boy with really long hair and pink lips seems highly improbable," he said.

He was walking in circles around her, studying her, his eyes going up and down and up again. Mercy wanted to run but her feet were as good as glued to the ground. When she looked down she realized roots had grown out of the ground and around her ankles. She was trapped.

"I'm a girl," she told him. "What is this? What are you doing?"

He smirked again. In a rather unpleasant way, but she didn't feel too threatened.

"I recall telling you that I was the one asking questions," he reprimanded her. "You don't look like a fool. You know me, I see it in your eyes. You're scared."

"I'm not scared of anything," she shot back right away, making him stop circling around her.

"A tough one, aren't you?" He huffed and resumed his walking. "How do they call me in this land again? Something to do with my flute," he said, trailing off and waiting for her to complete the sentence.

"The Pied Piper. You're the one that takes children away during their sleep," Mercy said accusingly.

"Do they seem asleep to you?" The boy asked, pointing at the dancing boys.

She didn't follow his stare but took this time to study him too. He was tall. Maybe older than her, but not much. He wore clean clothes and seemed clever. His eyes trained back on her.

"Are _you_ asleep?"

She didn't like the way he emphasized the 'you' in his sentences. He might as well be poking her in the chest it would feel the same.

"You came here by yourself, just like you'll follow me by your own free will."

"Following you while under the spell of an enchanted flute does not qualify as free will in my book," Mercy spat at him. An odd feeling stirred inside her – like she was talking to a serpent rather than a boy. "What do you want from us? Where are you taking them?"

"Questions again!" He exclaimed, this time looking annoyed. He raised his hand and suddenly, Mercy was off the ground and hanging in the hair, an invisible rope tightening around her neck to keep her quiet. "Much better." He smiled again. What was wrong with his smile? "Why not include yourself dear? I'm not taking them, I'm taking all of you. You'll be thanking me soon. There is a reason why none of the children ever came back. The place I'm taking you is a land of unlimited magic where all your dreams become reality."

Mercy's hands angrily grasped at the invisible rope but she only managed to scratch her neck. It wasn't tight enough to kill her, she could breathe but simply not talk. As an answer she glared down at him, putting as much hatred as she had in her in this one look.

"Fiesty, aye?" The boy said. "I'm going to enjoy having you around, I can tell already."

"I won't go with you!" She protested weakly, the words coming out as merely a whisper.

The boy opened his palm and Mercy fell limpy to the ground in a muffled thud. A surprised yelp escaped her, it was followed by a groan. She rubbed her back as she stood back up.

"You were saying, love? I didn't quite understand your inarticulate mumble." He beamed with self-complacency – he gave her a toothy grin that was anything but friendly.

"I said I won't go with you, you psychopathic man-child!" She shouted, her hands grazing her sore neck. It would bruise, that's for sure. "I'd rather die!"

"Careful!" He raised a finger in warning as he stopped walking around her and walked towards her instead. "Where we're going wishes have a tendency to come true, I'd watch my mouth if I were you," he told her.

"What is it that you don't understand when I say that I will not follow you on your Neverland not even in a million years?" Mercy stepped back as she barked at him – she refused to be stepped on like a doormat but she certainly was no fool and this boy was dangerous.

"Oh but you will, I assure you," he told her, closing the gap between them by disappearing and reappearing right in front of her. "A million years is exactly the time you'll spend there, with us."

"Us?" She asked before she had a chance to bite her tongue.

"The Lost Boys and I- oh, I'm sorry, I still haven't properly introduced myself, have I? I'm Peter Pan, _King_ of Neverland, and you, Mercy of Albridge in the Enchanted Forest, are going to come with me, whether you like it or not."


	2. Chapter 2

"Did she take it?" He asked in the same flat tone he always used when she was on his mind.

Felix once told him it sounded forced and unnatural. That was the day he received the awful scar that would become his distinctive feature. Ever since that day nobody ever mentioned her again unless Pan initiated the conversation, which he rarely ever did, for the obvious reason that he couldn't even say her name, even after a century. The Shadow nodded and flew away, like it usually did.

A storm was brewing this morning, following the uncharacteristically calm night. All living souls on Neverland knew they better stay in their shacks and not upset him further, for the weather on Neverland was merely a reflection of Pan's state of mind. What was so different today? Today was special – special to him. Time didn't pass in Neverland that was true. Not a minute had ticked away since the very first day, but still it was a special day. No one so far had connected the dots yet every 365 days, there was a storm ravaging the island.

"The Lost Boys are awaiting your orders, Pan."

It was Felix's voice that burst Pan's bubble of thought. His head whipped to the right and glared towards his daring right hand man. He never learned his lesson, scarring his flesh wasn't enough to make him stop defying him. A wave of power emanated from Pan, propelling Felix meters away from where he was standing and making him hit a tree.

"The orders are get busy and don't vex me," he barked at his so-called friend. "I want quiet today. Whatever trouble might erupt you take care of it."

Pan vanished in a flicker beat, not leaving Felix any chance to answer. Not that there was anything to answer, he received direct orders and even he knew not to discuss those.

When did life on Neverland become so dull that shouting orders around and watching his Lost Boys wriggle and run around to fulfill his every desire didn't bring him any satisfaction any more? When has the island's luxurious greenery turned gray? There was a time when it flourished like no place on earth but now when Peter dared pick a flower from the ground, it began to fray and shrink until it was dead and mere shreds. The once immortal King of Neverland was so utterly devoid of vitality that he sucked the life out of everything he touched.

This was her fault. Mercy. No one was ever named such an unfit name. In all the centuries he had known her, she never once showed mercy. The burning memory of her first steps as a Lost Girl still marked his mind like a white-hot iron would. If only he had known the misery she would bring him, would he still have chosen to bring her to his kingdom? He saw something in her – promises of great adventures and a radiance unseen before. Still he was far from suspecting how special she would become to him. She should be by his side instead of Felix and his moody self. No other than her had the potential to be his equal.

Peter Pan, despite all the rumors that told him stone-hearted and vile, felt her inside his very being. Each missed beat, each caught breath, and each tear in her heart. Neverland acted as a bridge – this curse in the form of a blessing kept him up to date with her but helped make his misery grow. For the two infamous heartless beings ruling Neverland were the ones feeling most deeply. Peter knew when she was sad and he knew when she was happy – or rather, he knew that she was not happy.

"I bet even she doesn't know," he mumbled to himself from the branch of the tree he was sitting on.

It was his secret thinking tree. It only appeared to those he wanted to reveal himself to. No Lost Boy could find him there. From there, he could see the smoke of the Lost Girls' bonfire, where they all sat to warm themselves on this doomed day. Not a single ray of sun pierced through the thick storm clouds and the rumbling of thunder could be heard from a distance. He remembered a time when there was no storm in Neverland, not a single one.

000

"Let me go!" Mercy screamed and threw herself to the bars of her cage.

She started shaking them violently with all her strength but the frail looking wooden bars tied together with thin rope didn't even budge. Magic, she thought. There was no way she would get out of this cage if it was kept closed by magic.

"You'll get out of there as soon as you've calmed down my dear," Peter's sultry voice said from behind her. Mercy jerked away from the bar and into a corner, her chest heaving and nostrils flaring. He was pacing around her like a lion around his prey once again. "No need to fear me."

"I told you I'm not scared of anything," she said, still wary of him. "But I would be stupid to let my guard down around you, wouldn't I?"

"You learn fast, I knew bringing you along was the right thing to do," he declared proudly, swelling his chest.

"I hardly think it was the right thing to do. It might have been a good choice for you but there is nothing _right_ in kidnapping children!" She barked at him, lurching forward and even making him flinch a bit. She smirked in victory.

"Philosophizing, are we?" He laughed at her. "You will soon find it pointless to fight against me. Give in, join us and stop being so stubborn. Don't waste your potential."

"My potential? Of becoming what? One of your brain-washed puppets? No thanks, I'd rather lose my freedom than my mind," Mercy said, challengingly raising her chin.

Pan knelt down in front of the cage and placed his hand against the bars. He was too close for her liking but she didn't have much of a choice and simply stared at him with every ounce of hatred she could gather. The shit-eating grin on his face announced nothing good for her. Pan shook his head and clicked his tongue against his cheek.

"Oh but love, far be it from me the idea to stifle your spirit. I want you to nurture it, feed it, let it burn." A second of confusion made her drop her defensive stance and Peter saw it and smiled at that. "Let me know when you've grown tired of being locked up like an animal. In the meantime, the boys will provide what you need to survive."

Mercy huffed in disdain and turned away from him. If he wasn't playing thick he should get the hint and leave her alone – the conversation was over. She heard the faint ruffling of his clothes and the creaking sound of the wooden floor as he walked away and before long she wouldn't hear anything but complete silence. To the point when it would drive her crazy – wherever she was Pan must have hexed the place to block out any sound because when you lived in the middle of a forest there should be at least a little noise.

Three weeks and regular visits from Pan is what it took before Mercy accepted to give in to his conditions. She promised not to cause trouble, to behave, and to let him teach her his ways. Well, as best she could.

"So what now? I'm the only girl on this whole island and I am to live surrounded by little boys brandishing sticks like swords?" She snickered as Pan and her walked past the group of Lost Boys training.

"In time and with training the stick will eventually turn into real, steel swords. Worry not, you won't be training with them," Pan assured her.

"If you're thinking of forcing me into the role of mother of all and make me cook and sew their clothes, I'd rather go back to my cage," she immediately told him, stopping in her tracks. "I have not left behind one world ruled by men only to be bound to the domestic sphere once again."

"Do not compare me to the adults of your world, you're insulting me," Pan told her in a threatening voice. "I am like no one you ever encountered. It wouldn't cross my mind to strap you down to a chair and make you do drudgery, I know potential when I see it, and you are an endless source of potential."

Mercy frowned both in surprise and unpleasantness. She didn't know what to expect from him.

"What does this mean?"

"It means I won't let you waste your time and mine waving around wooden sticks. I will personality take care of your training – there will be no rest for you until you're ready."

"Ready for what?" Mercy asked.

Her shoulders slumped down upon hearing his words. Of course she would have to obey to his every order and work tirelessly to earn her freedom back. Of course this boy and his twisted mind thought he was doing her a favor by giving her the _honor_ of becoming her tutor. She didn't want a tutor. She wanted a way back.

He laughed humorlessly even though she hadn't said a word.

"A way back, really? To your world ruled by men?" Peter asked. Mercy's face turned red from anger when she realized he violated her private thoughts. "Is that really what you want?"

"Do you mean, would I rather go back to my life than be toyed with by a children-stealing psychopath? Shocking, I know," she replied with all her fire.

He merely smiled his crooked, unpleasant smirk that gave Mercy the creeps. She didn't like that he was taller than her – back in her village she was always taller than the boys her age. Which made her wonder how old he really was. But she was in no position of asking as for now. And he was right in some way – she did not want to go back to the Enchanted Forest. There was nothing there for her, no future other than becoming the subdued wife of a gruff man. The problem was that she didn't want to stay on this island either, not if it meant being the prisoner of this boy, a compliant soldier in his army of children.

"In time, your opinion of me will change," he said in a hushed voice, like a promise of sorts. "I'm an acquired taste."

"That's what we call the things that taste like shit," Mercy replied.

Peter Pan stayed quiet but his eyes sparked with delight. That was the moment Mercy realized that he liked having her talk back. She might be the only one to do so, the other boys were much younger than him and in no position to defy him. Though she had no way to know if he simply got rid of those who dared to.

" _You_ -" he began, "-you and your attitude, I know you'll soon be my favorite."

000

"A big storm is brewing," a girl announced to the group as they were having a meager breakfast – mostly berries and bread.

Mercy provided when she needed to, when food became rare, but she wanted her girls to be independent if something were to happen to her. She made them hunt and harvest and identify the poisonous plants.

"Thanks for the obvious statement," one of the others replied in a mocking yet fond tone.

She threw the newcomer a piece of bread which she caught singlehandedly. Nice reflexes, Mercy thought. Her girls shared a special kind of bond – they relied on one another and worked as a team. She was proud of them although she wasn't too keen on voicing it. She merely stuffed berry after berry in her mouth and darted her eyes down.

"It's coming from the Lost Boys' camp," the new girl added as she sat down on the log next to the fire. "It'll reach us in a couple hours."

"No time to waste then," Mercy declared as she stood up.

All the Lost Girls dropped their smile and turned their attention to their leader. She would occasionally eat with them but Mercy knew that they acted differently around her – fearfully – and she ate in her cabin most often than not.

"Winnie," Mercy called one of the oldest and the girl stood up, ready to receive orders. "You take the younger girls to the beach and have them combat train. No real weapons, only fighting stances and techniques."

The girl nodded and Mercy saw that sense of purpose and will not to disappoint that glimmered in the eyes of her girls. They were all fighters. All pure souls who escaped a terrible, fruitless life in the Enchanted Forest and despite the awe Mercy inspired them, she knew they were grateful to be here – away from their tormentors.

"Dorothy, Sybil, you go get those who are still on watch and join me as soon as you finish breakfast. We'll hunt before the game hides from the storm."

Orders were given, the girls knew their task of the day and happily finished their bread and berries before accomplishing their duty. Breakfast lasted another ten minutes until they were all finished and within a minute the remains were put away and it appeared as though no one was even here in the first place. Leave no trace; keep no unnecessary item with you; be quick; make stealth your middle name. Mercy made sure the girls learned those rules. Their camp looked abandoned if you didn't look close enough. Add to that the glamor Mercy cast on it to hide it from prying eyes and if was like there were really no girls on this island. Not that they counted at all – Peter Pan had scrapped them long ago.

"Ready?" She asked when she saw the five girls on hunting duty lined up with their bows and arrows and axes on their belts.

She knew they also had small knives hidden up their sleeves and in their boots. One can never be too heavily armed on this godforsaken island. Ever since Mercy first set foot on Neverland, it has changed. It grew oppressive, hazardous – you never knew what you could run into. The island itself became anthropophageous; it would eat you alive if you let it.

"As ever," Dorothy spoke for them.

Dorothy was one of Mercy's precious ones. She knew she wasn't supposed to have a favorite but she did and that was Dorothy. She was brave but not reckless; knowledgable but not cocky about it; and she was capable.

"You three," Mercy gestured to Dorothy and two others. "You go South. Don't come back empty handed or we'll be on leaf diet all week. You two-" she waved the two remaining girls to come behind her, "-you're with me. We'll take East. Beware of the Lost Boys and if you see one, aim at the legs."

"What about the Indians?" Sybil asked from before Dorothy. "Are you forgetting they fired arrows at us last time we came too close to their camp?" An angry frown distorted Sybil's delicate features. She too was a fighter despite her frail appearance and short stature. She was Dorothy's protegée and though she still had a lot to learn – especially in the respect of the authorities department – she was promising. Her left arm still bore evidence of that attack she was speaking of. She got pinned to a tree by an arrow and though Mercy had healed the physical wound, the memory still stung a bit.

"Move faster," Mercy scoffed. "The forest doesn't belong to anyone, we take what we need to survive that's all."

Dorothy elbowed Sybil when the latter opened her mouth to protest.

"She'll be more careful," she assured her. "I take responsibility if anything happens. Meet at the camp when the storm breaks?"

"That leaves us less than two hours to bring back lunch and dinner," Mercy said with a nod. "Like I said, no coming back empty handed. And Dorothy-" she said right when the girl was turning on her heels to start the hunt. "-let the others a chance to fire an arrow too. No need to brag about your skills."

Dorothy smiled faintly and walked away, followed by the two other girls. As she watched them strut away, silent as a bunch of light-footed cats, Mercy remembered when she was in their shoes. When she was the clueless apprentice who had to blindly obey the orders of a fear-inducing megalomaniac who thought everyone ought to kiss his ass. A weak smile contorted her lips – it must have looked pathetic, she hadn't smiled a genuine smile in longer than she could remember.

Peter Pan' ruthless methods did bear fruits though and she was living proof of it. Mercy had extensive knowledge on everything concerning Neverland. Its creatures, it's plants, it's every rock and nook had no secret for her. Her body memorized all of Pan's harsh combat lessons, all of his sneaky back stabbing attacks she knew by heart. The only thing that remained – and would always remain – a mystery to her were the workings of his twisted mind.

And with yet another sigh – when was the last time she didn't feel exhausted? - Mercy raised her hand to gesture the girls to come. Luckily for her in this time and place she didn't have to strut behind anyone anymore and if she wanted to, she could let a few tears drop without having to worry about hiding them.


	3. Chapter 3

The first rain drops began to fall from the sky and Peter knew in his bones that he hadn't anything to do with this for once. It was her, whether she did it on purpose or not, it was Mercy. Mercy who kept her feelings, be them positive or negative, bottled up until the cork popped and a storm broke. Peter feared the day she would channel all of her anger and sorrow and direct it all at him – a tsunami of unleashed emotions she had little to no control over would wash over Neverland and destroy everything in its wake.

That was the cost for breaking a girl's heart. He didn't know how he'd done it but he felt it. In the air, in the earth, in his chest.

"Here," Peter called to Felix who he sensed was looking for him. The thinking tree appeared to the Lost Boy. "I recall asking you to leave me alone today."

"The Shadow's got something for you," he informed Pan with a reverential nod.

"And why would you think I care? The Shadows brings a newcomer every so often and you never saw me rolling out the red carpet for a Lost Boy, now did you?" Peter dismissed Felix with a simple hand gesture but his second in command insisted.

"You'll want to see this, believe me," Felix told Pan, earning an annoyed eye roll before Pan jumped off his high branch.

Before Felix could process what he saw, Peter had him in the air, his back painfully pressed against the bark of a dead tree, a broken branch poking his side. Pan's hand was raised and fury lit up his eyes in a threatening manner – so much so that Felix barely managed to swallow. Or was it because Pan suddenly enclosed his invisible grip around his friend's throat? Felix fell to the ground in a loud thud and a puff of smoke before he could think this through.

"Whatever it is I'm sure it could have waited until tomorrow. I thought I made myself very clear – _do not disturb me toda_ y. Or is it too much to ask of you? You shit-for-brains cannot handle a group of underage boys for a few hours?" Felix, who was still catching his breath on the ground, did not answer therefore Pan continued. "Perhaps I put too much responsibility on your shoulders. I remember a time when you seemed much more comfortable with your position, maybe you're not fit to stand by my side? Maybe I should find myself someone a bit more competent for the job?"

"Like Mercy you mean," Felix said daringly and regretted his words right away.

He didn't have time to think, let alone to confound in apologies and throw himself at Pan's feet to beg him to forgive him. His mouth ran faster ahead his brain sometimes; he had let his emotions speak and he won't do it again! But before he had a chance to say all this, he was once again thrown across the clearing and against a tree. The blow nearly knocked him out and he felt pain jolt through his body, from the bottom of his spine up to his neck and a sickening crack was the last thing he heard before he started screaming at Pan to let him go, to forgive him. The sound came from the tree behind him and not his bones crushing. His relief was short-lived though, because soon he was entirely swallowed by the tree whose trunk slowly opened up until Felix disappeared inside.

Peter Pan closed his fist and with it, the trunk closed on his second in command who was no longer in charge, still screaming his lungs out. It was all over in a slip second and silence came back, as if nothing happened at all.

"You never learned when to shut up my friend," Peter said even if he knew Felix couldn't hear him anymore. Perhaps a few days of complete and utter silence and stillness would teach him what Pan failed to all those years ago.

000

"Easy tiger!" Peter exclaimed as he jumped in front of Mercy, whose smirk of anticipation dropped the second he placed himself between she and her prey.

"What?!" She snapped and stood up straight. The noise made by Peter scared away the game. "Great, you made our dinner run away!" She reproached him.

Peter grabbed her by the elbow when she motioned to walk around him.

"Don't touch me," she said and ripped her arm out of his grasp. "I agreed to live with you, to let you teach me your ways and not cause trouble, but you won't lay a finger on me without my express permission, got it?!"

"Feeling feisty, are we? You should know I would never let a Lost Boy talk to me like you just did, so tell me, why exactly do you think yourself above them? I will touch you as I please, when I please – including when your reckless behavior pushes you to attack a mountain lion with nothing but a knife! Today, we're hunting rabbits. The big game is not for amateur hunters."

"I don't think myself above anyone; I'm hoping they'll find it inspiring to see someone defy you," Mercy fired back and stepped closer to Pan. She glared at him like she wanted to set him on fire with her eyes. "Don't be stupid, I wasn't going to dive head first in a hand-to-hand fight with a dangerous predator alone. I was counting on you to help me," she said with a dismissive shrug as she put her knife back in its leather stealth. "You seem hell-bent on keeping me here and alive, I figured you wouldn't let the dinner win."

"You relied on me to save you from this creature?" Pan scoffed and threw his hands in the air in a gesture of disbelief. "You've got to have the worst survival instinct I've ever seen."

"Why?" Mercy twisted her head around to look at him. "Tell me I was wrong."

Of course she was right, what did she want Pan to say to this? That he was going to let the mountain lion eat her? It would be lying to her face – Peter Pan lied like he breathed but this wouldn't bring him anything apart from demonstrating his bad faith.

"It was an awful strategy all the same – even if I wouldn't have let you die," he eventually told her before turning around to look away from her intense eyes. "You need to think smart, be patient and not overestimate your abilities – everything on this island could kill you," he warned her, only briefly meeting her gaze.

"How do you know that? I can defend myself!" She protested stubbornly.

"Because that's how I made it – deadly. And you know nothing, you would barely last a day out there without the boys and I."

Mercy's frown slowly morphed into a knowing smile and a semi-annoyed expression which Peter couldn't identify the cause of.

"What are you smiling for?"

"You want me to stay," she stated with a humorless chuckle. "Ever since you let me out of this cage you won't allow me out of your sight, and you casually drop hints that I need you to survive," she kept laughing bitterly – she felt herself losing her wits on this doomed island, maybe she was going crazy? "I'm beginning to think it's the other way around."

Peter shut her up with a stern glare and he grabbed her arm, roughly leading her away from the path and into the dark parts of the forest.

"From now on you'll have to learn when to shut up or you might get on my bad side," he growled when he saw that she was still smiling – now she was just doing it on purpose, to provoke him. "Trust me, you don't want that to happen."

"Oh the mighty King of Neverland is in a mood, aren't ya?" She giggled. "I'm so scared," Mercy laughed and ripped her arm out of his grasp yet again. "I remember telling you not to touch me like five minutes ago. Do you have memory problems? This is the last time I tell you – don't put your dirty hands on me."

This time Mercy's voice didn't hold any trace of humor, or sarcasm. Even a complete idiot would notice that she was dead serious. But it was Peter Pan she was talking to and no one could tell him what to do – he was the only authority figure and obeyed no one.

"This sounds an awful lot like an order," he suddenly said, menacingly stepped toward Mercy, so much so that he stood right in front of her, blocking her view of the forest and forcing her to twist her neck upward to meet his angry eyes. "Might want to rephrase that sentence or I'll send you right back where you come from."

"Please do, I'd like nothing more than to go back to the Enchanted Forest," she spat back, squinting her eyes.

She opened and closed her hands a few times in anger and nervousness. Torn between hitting him and running away, Mercy merely dug her heels in the muddy ground and tried to hide any trace of fear when she glare his way. He did the last thing she expected him to: he smirked.

"I meant the cage," he snickered. "There's a rabbit hole this way and another one here," Pan turned around and changed the subject – stopping the argument as quickly as it started. "You go get dinner or you won't eat at all. I'll be watching you."

Mercy felt her body heat rise and she would have sworn steam was coming out of her ears when she stomped past Pan and shot furious glares toward him when she did so. He was toying with her and she couldn't do anything about it, she was powerless. In a way he was right, she did need him in order to survive. If someone knew this island's secrets it must be him and no one else. A plan began to take form in her mind, a plan that required her learning when to shut up and take mental notes of every piece of information Pan would deem her worthy of knowing. He wanted to teach her how to be a Lost Girl? How to fight, hunt, defend herself, identify poisonous plants and find her way even in the deepest part of the woods? Fair enough, she would become a model student.

And one day, Mercy vowed, the student would surpass the master.

000

Mercy watched the rain fall from under a tent. The fire was shielded from the wind and rain and the girls took care of roasting the meat for dinner. It rained all day without interruption – the island was aching. Mercy felt in her bones that something was wrong, off. Something was missing and she hated not to know what. Her eyes were darted on the rabbits and fox they managed to catch this morning, watching the flames lick their bodies.

The stomach of the girl sitting next to her growled and she covered it with both hands in embarrassment. Mercy smiled to herself and pulled out a knife from her boot. If she had nothing to do she might as well sharpen her knives.

Rain, as peaceful as it made the world seem, had one huge downside: it prevented her from doing any kind of activity. Mercy stayed in her shack, forced to think, forced to face things she would rather leave behind. Her mind jumped back to Pan a lot lately – why? She had no idea. But the rain definitely did that. That small, withering part of herself that still cared... it wondered, quietly in the back of her head, what could possibly have happened to Pan? What kind of sorrow caused this downpour?

Most importantly, how was he doing? Without her? Did he still look the same? Of course he did, the rational part of her brain knew that – she'd been here long enough to know he didn't age and to have witnessed it. But still, the little girl he picked up that night in the Enchanted Forest had a hard time processing that someone she hasn't seen in... how long? Time didn't exist here, but in her heart it felt like centuries... how can someone she hasn't seen in such a long time still look exactly the same way he did the last time?

Magic.

"It's ready!" Sybil shouted over the rain.

The girls began to gather around the fire while Sybil and one of the younger girls filled the plates. Mercy sat there and watched her girls, the smiles of content on their faces as they were handed their dinner and she thought back to the numerous days she spent without eating anything at all. She never approved of Pan's teaching methods but so far it was proven efficient, for lack of a better word.

Mercy was the best hunter, none of the girls could challenge her in this field – and maybe Pan starving her until she caught her own dinner did have something to do with it, maybe not. Maybe she was also the best fighter because he didn't back away whenever she groaned in pain during their sword training sessions, maybe he was harsh with her because he wanted her to be the best. Mercy had skills that a lot of Lost Boys envied her at the time Pan was training her and she harbored plenty of scars that testified of Pan's rough methods.

Dorothy, sweet Dorothy. She almost killed herself during a hunt one day, a long time ago, a lifetime ago. She didn't cry – Mercy vividly remembered the girl bleeding on the ground and looking at her with a glimmer of embarrassment in her eyes, like she was ashamed of her poor performance. Mercy had healed her wounds without hesitation, even if she dreaded using magic. Dorothy was back on her feet and the very first thing she asked was, "why not heal yourself?"

Mercy had looked down at her palms, marbled with small white scars, but the girl's eyes were fixed on Mercy's face. A bumpy scar bared her otherwise smooth and delicate face, from her left ear to the bridge of her nose. To this day Mercy still remembered what she told Dorothy word for word.

"It would require a kind of magic I don't have."


	4. Chapter 4

"Up and in line everyone!" Mercy ordered and her girls stood in the usual order within seconds, dropping everything they were doing. In a single swift motion, she threw a thick wooden stick to one of the younger girls who fumbled a bit before catching it, out of surprise.

"You can't hesitate, if someone else than me throws something else at you, you _need_ to catch it," she said and paced in front of the girls. When she reached the same girl again, Mercy threw her elbow at her, aiming for the face but this time she caught it before it hit her. "Better," Mercy congratulated her with a smirk.

It was still raining, they had just eaten a good meal, it was the exact opposite of what you called good fighting conditions. Perfect.

"These are the worst conditions you can find yourself in during a fight," Mercy continued. "Pair up!"

In a common movement, all the Lost Girls moved to face up their partner. They paired up with girls of the same strength – Mercy shook her head.

"No, not like that. Mingle with the stronger ones, challenge yourself because there is no honor in winning against someone you know you can defeat."

They changed partners and shared confused looks as they did so.

"Fight, and I want to see you use the elements to your advantage. It's raining, it's muddy, the sounds of nature cover anything else, use it."

As soon as the words crossed her lips, the girls executed her orders. The smaller, weaker ones attacked first because that's what mercy taught them to do – to strike before their adversary gets a chance to hit them. If you're smaller, it means you're faster. If you're bigger then you can knock your enemy out faster. Sybil and her cunning ways was the first to dive to the ground and swing her leg around to sweep the other girl off her feet and make her slip in the mud.

"Good Sybil! Everyone look at that! That's what I'm talking about. Don't be afraid to play dirty literally and figuratively, Neverland isn't a playground and next time a bunch of Lost Boys come here, I want you to make them eat the ground."

She made the girls fight and fight and fight again, keeping up the rhythm until they were wetter from sweat than rain. They panted, covered in mud and blood, pointlessly trying to rub away the dirt with the back of their equally dirty hands while dodging blow after blow.

"What the hell is wrong with her?!" Sybil groaned in between a couple punches.

She ducked forward when Dorothy leaped toward her and tried to hit her shoulder. Sybil hurt her shoulder last month, everyone knew that. But it was fair game, she didn't hold grudge against her sister. It was a weakness and she exploited it, like Mercy had instructed.

"Shut up or you'll be on watch duty for the next two centuries," Dorothy replied and attacked again. Her hair kept flying in her eyes and the rain made it stick to her forehead and momentarily blinded her.

"What is it with her today?! Why is she such a pain in the-"

"Sybil?" Mercy interrupted the girls' fight and grabbed the poor Sybil's arm. "Got something to say?"

"Yes!" She snapped, letting her emotions take precedence over her head and stepping closer to her leader instead of backing down like a wise person would have. "What's going on? Why are you venting on us? What's the deal with you today?!"

"My deal-" Mercy began, talking between her teeth and tightening her grip on Sybil who winced in pain. "-is my business. You stay quiet and do as I say, or you can run off into the jungle and throw your little pity party there. If you interrupt training once more, I'll personally see to your punishment."

Sybil turned a few shades whiter and her pupils lost in size. Fear sizzled in the air as rain showered them.

"No dinner for you tonight. You're on first watch. Dorothy-" Mercy said and the girl's eyes moved from her friend to her leader. "-You pair up with Tina and teach her the basics again, she still can't throw a proper kick."

She didn't say a word but moved over to where the young blond girl called Tina stood, with her arm hanging each side of her body, trembling in fear. The partner was already walking towards Sybil to face her new adversary.

"Congratulations everyone, you get two more hours of training and you can thank Sybil for that. I'm leaving but don't think for a second that I won't know it if you stop before I say it's over." Mercy clapped her hands – the signal for the Lost Girls to resume their fighting. "If you're not too sore to move tomorrow, it means you did it wrong."

000

"If every muscle in your body doesn't scream for you to stop then you haven't given it all yet," Pan philosophized while circling around the heavy breathing girl at his feet. "Do better or die out there."

"What's out there?" Mercy asked before rubbing the blood away from her split lip.

It didn't stop the bleeding though, and bruises were already forming here and there all over her body. She simply couldn't do it – what he asked of her was too much.

"Why, the world of course!" Pan said with a smirk. "If you're not tougher than the world, it'll kill you, don't you know?" He knelt down to be at eye level with Mercy and she had to refrain from spitting in his face. "Get on your feet little lamb, or the big bad wolf will get you."

"Who's the big bad wolf in this dumb metaphor?" Mercy scoffed in disdain, blood dripping from her nose as she slowly stood up, along with Peter. "You?!" There was so much scorn in her voice that she couldn't even blame Pan for the following blow.

Her feet left the ground and Mercy immediately raised her hands before her face to protect herself and closed her eyes, ready to take the blow, get the air knocked out of her and to receive another bruise in some painful place. But it never came. Mercy's jaw was still clenched in fear and anticipation when she dared open one eye to see what was happening and the only thing she saw was that Pan wasn't there anymore. Or rather, she wasn't with Pan anymore.

Not a second ago she was surrounded by trees and now she stood on the edge of a cliff by the sea. Neversea was a forbidden place – no Lost Boy was allowed to get in the dark waters. Most of the island was surrounded by sharp rocks anyway, there was only one sand beach, the rest of Neverland was as hostile as one would expect.

A series of sharp edged rocks led the way to the water several meters below. Despite the seemingly deadly territory she was in, the call of the void was strong. Tempting. It was mesmerizing, it sang to her and Mercy stepped forward against her best judgment.

"Hello?!" Mercy screamed out. Her voice echoed against the rocks but no one answered. "Where the hell am I now?" She wondered out loud.

There was still no answer but this time around she heard voices. She couldn't make out what they were saying but she wanted, needed to know and it somehow made her take another step towards the edge. The sound of the waves hitting the bottom the the cliff was loud and regular, it lulled her and covered the voices she tried to hard to decipher. Her feet moved as though thy had a will of their own. It felt a little wrong, Mercy wanted to fight against this invisible force that compelled her to move but this urge didn't take precedence over the need to find the source of the chants.

Where did it come from? Who was singing so beautifully? Whose void pierced through the mist of the sea? It was pure madness but her raised foot hovered over the void – there was no more ground to put her foot on but she couldn't stop moving forward, the wind pushed her from the back and the voices pulled her toward the sea.

"What are you doing, you foolish girl?!" A voice exclaimed from behind her, snapping Mercy out of her reverie.

She felt a tight grip on her upper arm and was abruptly pulled back on the land, away from an imminent death. It was like being ripped out of a stupidly vivid dream too fast and waking up feeling dizzy and lost.

"Pan?" Mercy asked confusedly. "Did you hear this?"

"Of course I did, everyone does. Don't listen to them, they'll lure you to a certain and painful death."

This at least made her come back to her senses.

"What the hell was that? Get your hands off of me!"

"I just saved your life, I would advise you show a little gratefulness," Peter scoffed and released her once he had dragged her far enough from the sea and its mysterious call. "It's not my touch that you should fear but the sirens. If they got their hands on you, you'd be a goner."

"I'd rather throw myself off this cliff and get eaten by magical creatures than have your filthy hands touch me – and I already told you multiple times that I'm not scared of you."

Peter dropped his hand and looked at her more intently, making her feel as though he was seeing right through her instead of at her. Mercy shivered of disgust and repressed the urge to rub away the feeling of his touch on her skin. He didn't believe her, that much was obvious, but she wouldn't contradict him again. If he wanted to underestimate her then so be it.

"You disappeared, well done," he eventually congratulated her as though she accomplished some extraordinary deed.

It must have been pretty fantastic since he barely acknowledged her perseverance - if not skill - during their training sessions but suddenly complimented her.

"I didn't do it on purpose," she said, chin still raised high. There was no point in trying to pass it as talent, she did it on accident and wouldn't be able to do it again if he asked her. "Where are we?"

"The mermaid lagoon," he scoffed in a way that suggested that he hated this place. "Don't let the pretty name fool you, it's the most hellish part of this entire island. Mermaids will lure you to a certain death if you let your guard down for so much as a second."

"While you're all rainbows and butterflies and do not threaten my life at all," Mercy snickered sarcastically, earning a stern glare.

She expected Peter to physically punish her for this bold comment, to suspend her in the air, tackle her to the ground, or magically strangle her but he did none of it and simply turned around - trusting she would follow him and not be stupid enough to take a chance on the lagoon. It was a tough choice for her nonetheless and Mercy seriously considered running in any other direction than the one Peter was. Thoughts ran wild in her head for a second, but she just literally vanished in thin air before his eyes and he still managed to find her, so how could she even hope to escape by foot?

"Move!" He barked at her form a fair distance. "Training's far from being over, I see you still have some fight in you so you go back at it until you're too tired to insult me."

Mercy thought that she'd have to be dead for that to happen, but she still obliged and silently followed his steps through the thick greenery of Neverland.

000

At the end of the day, Peter couldn't simply isolate himself from his Lost Boys endlessly and he had to return to camp after a few more hours of sulking at his thinking tree. Even he couldn't call it anything but sulking. Denying this to himself was pointless and he was in his damn right to act like a child if he wanted to – he was the ultimate forever child, who could blame him for acting like one?

"Shadow," Peter called from the top branch of his tree, high enough to give him a view of the creek and Skull Rock.

It appeared almost right away, as though it constantly lurked in the dark, waiting for its master to whistle. For this alone Peter despised it but he couldn't deny how useful it was. It complete missions like no Lost Boy ever did. The only person who ever came close to this was Mercy – that is, until she turned against Peter. Felix could rot in his tree for all Peter cared, he was a poor second in command most of the time, but still the most capable of the Boys. It really spoke volumes about the state of Pan's little army. Pitiful.

The Shadow floats in the air before Peter, blocking his view and waiting orders like the perfect silent soldier. Peter often thought that if the Shadow could talk it would quickly go from his favorite to least favorite minion.

"What's she doing?" He asked in a flat voice – he didn't know why he felt so compelled to fake detachment when he spoke to the Shadow, but he did it. All the time. There was no other way he knew of to deal with the jumble of emotions he felt.

The Shadow shook its faceless head in defeat. Peter had grown to learn how to interpret the Shadow's body language. The Lost Girls' camp was sizzling with tension today, probably like his own camp. Mercy was a mess of wild emotions she refused to deal with, and she let out the steam by giving the rough side of the hand to her girls. He sighed deeply. As soon as he raised a hand toward the sky and flicked his wrist, the rain stopped. Peter rarely changed the weather the way he just did, but he knew that Mercy's mood wouldn't improve as long as the storm went on.

"You won't be giving her the usual flower, today I need you to do something else for me..."


	5. Chapter 5

The last hour of training went by much more quickly than the girls expected, and it was mainly due to the fact that it stopped raining and the wind stopped blowing. Mercy dismissed them all before the end; much to everyone's relief her mood seemed to have improved since the last time she checked on them.

She had no idea what happened for the storm to stop and the clouds to disperse so quickly, but the sun had never felt so delightful on Mercy's skin. When the first ray pierced through the branches of the trees, Mercy raised her chin and closed her eyes to better appreciate its warmth. The sudden silence made her aware of the pounding of her heart in her chest and for the first time of the day, she breathed in and relaxed. Her shoulders were tense, her feet hurt and she was tired. She sat on the nearest rock and simply enjoyed the sun for as long as she could before it set.

Which happened all too soon. She stood up the second it stopped basking her in its rays and walked back to the training field. All the girls froze and stopped talking when they saw their leader arrive. Mercy ignored the wary glances and smiled gently.

"You've done well today," she complimented them, walking past Sybil who was covered in mud from head to toe and panting. "I know I make you work hard and it doesn't always seem justified or fair, but I have your best interest at heart. Now go get cleaned up so you can eat and rest. I'll be the only one on watch duty tonight and tomorrow's training is canceled. Everyone will participate in bringing food back to camp."

Sybil looked angry and like she was going to say something she would regret, but Winnie placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a squeeze that made her swallow it back. Dorothy let out a sigh of relief from across the training field when she was certain that the situation wasn't going to escalate. Sybil, the troublesome child, the wild one. Mercy liked the girl, if only because she stood up for herself and her friends, but she needed to learn the right way to do it.

The girls began to walk toward the pond to get rid of all the dried dirt and the leaves in their hair when Mercy grabbed Winnie's arm. She waited until the others were gone before speaking.

"You did a very good job today at showing the new girls the fighting moves and sharing your knowledge – it's noble, but it's not what I'm asking of you. You can't just fight smaller than you, you'll never improve this way. Try and pair up with Sybil next time, she's a fighter, she plays dirty, and that's what you need."

Winnie lowered her head in shame and nodded faintly, thinking she just got scolded.

"But again, you're a good person with a lot of skill. And you might have a positive influence on Sybil too. Mutually help each other, and let me take care of the young ones." Mercy punctuated her sentence with a smile and looped her arm around Winnie's shoulders to lead her to the pond. As they approached they could hear laughter and loud conversations, it lifted the mood.

"Join the others," she said and pushed her slightly forward.

Their surroundings basked in soft, orange-red light filtering through the branches of the trees around them, and the girls relaxed in the water and washed one another's hair as they chatted and let the steam out. Mercy lived for moments like these.

"Hey!" Dorothy called from up on a rock. Her hair was back to the usual shining blond everybody secretly envied her. She was a beautiful person inside and out. She kept waving at Mercy to come over, and she did just that. "No offense but you look like you need a bath too," she simply said, as though she was any other Lost Girl and not the stern instructor who has yelled at them all, all day long.

"Do I?" Mercy asked with a smirk as she snapped her fingers. Gone were the dirt, the wet clothes sticking to her body and the leaves tangled in her hair.

"That's cheating!" She exclaimed, joined by a couple other girls who approved her statement.

"Teach us how to do it!" One of the last two girls who arrived sudden blurted out, a huge grin on her face. All the girls turned to her with a closed off expression, and the mood dropped. The young one seemed to notice and her smile vanished – she looked like she wanted to crawl in a mouse hole.

"Nancy it is, huh?" Mercy asked. She didn't need confirmation, she knew all of her girls' names, but this one looked like she would whither away if Mercy so much as said her first name too harshly.

The little girl nodded. She must have been seven or eight years old, and she would never age a day in her life. Mercy had seen her walk around with ridiculously long black hair which she constantly fiddled with the first days of her arrival, but since then the older girls had made an habit of braiding Nancy's hair into intricate hairstyles so it would stay out of her eyes and not get tangled in bushes. Now she fiddles with her clothes or anything she could get her hands on really, almost like she was used to having something in her hands.

"Magic is dangerous when you don't know how to use it. Magic has a price; it is whimsical and elitist. Either you have the gift-" Mercy gestured vaguely with her left hand to make a teddy bear appear from nowhere. "-or you don't."

She handed the plush over to the little girl who immediately cradled it against her chest.

"I don't teach magic because it's a burden more than a blessing. I don't teach magic because even if I did, it wouldn't bring much to any of you since you don't have the gift. You'd be able to turn a stick into a knife, to change the color of your hair, to play little tricks, but that's it. It would wear you down for nearly nothing. It takes a toll on you, slowly you start to feel your body ache for it – like a drug. It's what happened to the Lost Boys whom Pan used to teach magic when I first came here. Even he stopped doing it. Let it be a lesson – if Peter Pan himself thinks twice before doing something, you should avoid it at all costs."

Her little speech lasted long enough to permanently ruin the happy mood of the girls and the sun had completely set. It was getting darker by the minute. Dorothy didn't smile anymore, her hand was on Nancy's shoulder.

"Everyone clean?" Mercy asked and was answered by a round of positive responses. "Perfect. For tonight and tonight only, _I_ will provide. I have been harsher than you deserved and you all earned the feast that is waiting for you at the bonfire. Go now."

The group dispersed in a matter of seconds and soon the pond was a deserted area. In the distance, Mercy heard the joyful chatter erupt again. The knot in the pit of her stomach tightened and she bent in two, feeling sick all of a sudden – sick of herself. She wanted to throw up but she hadn't eaten anything for almost twenty-four hours and there was nothing left to throw up whatsoever. Another, far more familiar feeling raised the hairs on her neck - the unmistakable feeling of being observed - and Mercy jumped on her feet, ready to face whoever was lurking in the dark.

Of course it was the Shadow, silently waiting for her to abandon her defensive stance. Mercy hated herself for doing it, but she nodded at the thing and she waited for it to do it's usual trick of pulling one of Pan's flowers out of nowhere. Except it didn't.

"What are you waiting for?" Mercy barked when she couldn't take it anymore. It was testing her patience and she wasn't known for having a lot of it.

The Shadow flew away before she even finished the question. If it had flown up she might have turned on her heels and walked back to her cabin, but it moved slowly and went through the trees so she figured it wanted Mercy to follow. It went against everything she taught her girls, but if there was one thing that Mercy knew to be true, it was that Pan didn't want her dead, and the Shadow would never hurt her.

She walked for a long time and if she didn't know the island like the back of her hand, Mercy would have been way more anxious than she currently was.

"Where the hell are we going? I'm not walking through Neverland at night time, leaving my girls alone, and potentially heading straight into a trap just because you want me to follow you," she told the Shadow after half an hour of wandering deeper and deeper into the forest.

It merely looked at her – if this thing could even _look_ somewhere – and resumed its floating. Five minutes later, Mercy fell on her knees. Her face was buried in her hands as she collapsed on the humid ground in the middle of a small meadow. When she finally removed them she still couldn't see farther than the tip of her nose because the tears blinded her. A scream so loud that it physically burned her throat came out of her mouth and echoed through the island. When would it stop? When would she be at peace?

"Why are you doing this to me?!" She screamed at someone who wasn't even there. But she was certain that he listened. He always listened, he always watched. He was the invisible presence that made her hairs stand on ends, and the cause for her paranoia – he might as well be standing behind her and leaning over her shoulder, for the feeling was the same. "How you must hate me to keep torturing me like this after all these years! What is the point of this, why don't you let me go?! Just let me go Peter! I _need_ you to let me go!"

She repeated he words over and over again until they lost their meaning, until they no longer felt right. Mercy forgot what she was saying in the first place when finally her throat became too sore to say another word and she fell on her back. She blinked a couple times and stared up at the sky and its stars. They were blinded out though because the meadow of glowing blue flowers she laid in the middle of shone brighter than the moon. In this exact position and lulled by the soft sound of far off music, Mercy felt her eyelids grow heavy and before she realized it, she was asleep.

000

Time passed, bruises appeared and faded, bones broke and healed, Mercy toughened up – not because she had to, but because she wanted to. Not because Peter Pan didn't leave her a choice, but because one day she wanted to better him, and he wouldn't have any other choice than let her go.

Constantly on guard, that's how Mercy lived. She looked over her shoulder wherever she want in order to anticipate any attack from Peter or the Lost Boys – he'd ordered them to surprised attack her and to challenge each other as often as they could. A ride or die mentality took over the camp and friendships became a rare thing – not that Mercy cared, she didn't come here to make friends. She didn't come here at all, she was abducted and schemed to go back.

It appeared that this fact slipped Pan's mind a lot – the way he acted and spoke to her let her think that he believed it was an honor and privilege for her to be part of his gang of underage delinquents. They weren't like this before he corrupted their minds, they merely needed care and attention but the lack thereof caused them to hear and follow the hypnotizing music of Pan's flute. Like Mercy. She still wondered what pushed her to do that. She didn't feel like she was unloved. She didn't feel like her life was that terrible.

"You only hear the flute if you need to hear it," Pan had told her in-between two of their lessons, one of the rare moments when he agreed to give Mercy a break to catch her breath and answered her questions. "I don't choose who hears it, I only play."

His voice sounded distraught and tired, Mercy didn't dare say anything anymore. Contrary to the rest of the time when he tried so hard to look dangerous and scary, she couldn't find it in herself to spit a nasty comment at his face. Was it all an act? It sure didn't feel like it. She never got a chance to know because these moments were as fleeting as they were rare. If Peter Pan felt the wall surrounding his heart - assuming he has one – shatter, he immediately built another, higher, thicker one. But when would such an occasion present itself again?

"Why do you play?" Mercy risked the question and regretted it when she saw Peter's face close up.

"Have you forgotten the first rule on Neverland?" He scoffed, his voice full of scorn as he stood up.

"How could I, you remind me at least once a day," the girl grumbled and crossed her arms in sign of protest – she was tired and would not engage in any more fighting today.

"And I will keep doing it until you learn to respect it," he added and flicked his hand to magically make her stand to her feet, causing her to wobble on her legs and almost fall. "No more questions. I only ask one thing of you: silence and obedience."

"That's _two_ things – none of which you will ever obtain by the way," Mercy laughed bitterly and walked past him.

She tried to, at least. Pan grabbed her by the upper arm as she walked by and forcefully pulled her back. Mercy was taken by complete surprise as he rarely ever used physical violence to make her do his bidding, magic was always his go-to solution. This time she didn't get the usual treatment – her back didn't hit the nearest tree, her legs weren't tied together by magical ivy. In a swift and practiced motion, Peter whisked Mercy off her feet and made her lose her balance and fall to the ground. He had swiped her feet to the right while pushing her upper body to the left and watched her face plant with a smug smirk on his face. The shock knocked the air out of her for a second but Mercy recovered quickly and jumped back to her feet – only to be once again thrown in the dirt. This time Pan placed a foot behind her own then put his right forearm across her shoulders and pushed. It happened so quickly she didn't have the time to react.

"Stop it!" She protested when it was clear that he would do it again if she tried to stand up. "What is the point of this, what are you trying to prove now?!" She deliberately provoked him.

Mercy was hot blooded and he just made her very mad. Taking in some punches for the sake of training that she could endure, because it helped her reach of goal of getting away from her tormentor. But being pushed around and mishandled for the sole pleasure of this self-proclaimed King of a slice of earth and a bunch of kids was too much for Mercy's nerves.

"I have nothing to prove my dear, but you needed a little reminder. I can defeat you without magic, I can out-smart you, manipulate you, and I can break you if you refuse to bend."

Mercy was fuming. Still on the ground - but looking high and mighty nonetheless – she glared daggers at him, her nostrils flared and her fists clenched in anger. Pan knelt down to be at eye level with her, or maybe he simply enjoyed this position of dominance.

"My dear, unyielding Mercy," he began and she already knew she wasn't going to like what would come next. "Do not think for a second that your sudden enthusiasm during our training sessions went unnoticed, I am no fool and I know exactly what your cunning little mind came up with. But a few hand-to-hand combats with me won't make you a better fighter than I am, you have no chance of escaping, believe me. Smarter, stronger people than you have tried."

"You don't know me," she spat at him, making him back away the slightest bit when she leaned forward to say this. "And now where are those smarter and stronger people you speak of if they haven't escaped? I see no one around here challenging me in those two departments."

"You see, as smart as they were they made the very stupid decision to fight me instead of joining my cause. For this reason their bodies now rest at the bottom of the ocean - if you'd like to join them let me know and I can arrange that."

It was and would always be uncharacteristically intimidating to hear Peter Pan threaten you directly. His aura was dark as night and there was no doubt that he would put his menace to execution if Mercy pushed her over the edge, but somehow she couldn't take him seriously. She couldn't because she knew that what he just said was a lie. She had no idea how she knew it, or what imperceptible change in his expression gave it away, but he lied that she was sure of.

"Duly noted," she said begrudgingly and raised a hand, gesturing Pan to help her to her feet. "Does this mean the end of my private fighting lessons?" She asked as soon as she was up. Pan had rolled his eyes and reluctantly taken her hand to help Mercy stand up and she felt like she just won a battle.

"Certainly not, you just got yourself an extra daily hour of beating for your impertinence," he told her. "You progress fast – even if you're a few hundred years late to catch up on me – so we'll move on to the difficult part now. Magic."

"Magic?" Mercy snorted and crossed her arms. Her laughter got stuck in her throat when she saw the way Pan stared at her. "Why would you teach me magic, you just said you knew that I wanted to escape and now you're offering me the occasion to learn how to do so?"

Great Mercy, good way of not raising suspicion and persuading him to continue his lessons.

"It's not everyday that I meet someone with magic abilities, it would be a terrible loss if I decided not to teach you for such trivial reasons. You represent no threat to me and I can keep you here as long as I please. Make no mistake my dear Mercy, I can make you do anything, I have power of life and death over everyone and everything on Neverland - I can kill you with a snap of my fingers just like I can force you to stay alive in case the thought of putting an end to your life merely to get away from me crossed your mind."

There it was – the truth. Peter Pan didn't want her dead, oh no. For a reason she had yet to find out, Mercy knew that Peter desperately wanted – or maybe needed – her to stay alive, and to remain here on Neverland, with him.


	6. Chapter 6

"Pan," one of the Lost Boys called him – he didn't remember his name but he was one of the oldest. "Felix left the camp hours ago to find you but he hasn't returned yet," he informed his leader, somewhat hesitantly, as if he was scared to be punished for Felix's absence even though he had nothing to do with it.

Ah right, Felix, Pan almost had almost forgotten about him. He was still trapped in the tree Pan put him into. With a quick wave of the hand Pan released his hold on the magical tree, leaving it to Felix to get out all by himself.

"He'll come back soon enough," Pan told the Lost Boy and dismissed him. The boy stayed where he was, looking awkward and unsure of what to say what he obvious came to tell him. "Spit it out boy, I don't have all night."

"It's the Shadow, it brought new people," he admitted, shaking slightly when Pan walked up to him, standing too close for the young boy's nerves.

"What people? Do you mean the Shadow brought more than one boy?" Peter asked, growing impatient with the boy and his slowness in providing a clear explanation.

What in heaven could be so out of the ordinary and important that Pan couldn't even take a few hours off and be by himself? What prompted his second in command to seek him out in the forest, knowing that he would be punished for it? He was tired of being surrounded by a bunch of helpless, incompetent boys. Mercy. He couldn't stop thinking about Mercy whenever someone disappointed him, because he knew that he wouldn't have to worry about these kinds of the things if she were still around. Unfortunately for him that was out of the question. He had come to terms with the fact that she would never come back to him after the first six decades of her throwing away his flowers. Which raised the question of why he kept sending them to her. He pushed it to the back of his mind and focused on the task at hand.

"You should come see for yourself," the boy stuttered out, only then realizing he had almost given a direct order to his leader.

To avoid losing anymore time Pan ignored the boy's tongue slip and followed him outside of his shack. He led him to the cages to his surprise.

"Why would you imprison the newcomers? Who's responsible for that?" Pan barked at the boy on his way there, taking great pleasure in seeing fear appear on his juvenile features.

They all shared looks and remained quiet. Pan guessed it must have been Felix, none of them were confident enough to take decisions without consulting Pan first. Peter understood why they were in cages as soon as he saw them though.

Cursing under his breath, Pan ran a hand through his hair and kicked one of the nearby empty cages out of frustration. How long had it been since the Shadow brought those people here? How dumb was Felix for not coming right away and tell him? How dumb was _he_ for not listening to his friend when he told him something was wrong?

"Everybody leave," Peter said calmly but sternly. "Now!" He shouted when he realized his Lost Boys stared at him with googly eyes instead of obeying.

They dashed away, returning to their previous activities as if nothing was going on while Pan walked closer to the cages and knelt down to be at eye level with his visitors.

"Names," Pan snapped at them and they yelped and shivered under his somber gaze. Something dark twinkled in his eyes and they must have seen it because they answered right away.

"John," the first one said.

"Michael," the other one told him, holding onto his brother.

"We're the Darlings, where are we? Where are our parents? Why did you take us?" The third one began to ask question after question, gripping the bars of the cage with her shaking hands. Pan's attention shifted to the furious eyes staring at him with contempt.

"Hello there," he said and everyone shivered in fear. "What are you lovely doing here? Surely the Shadow made a mistake, girls don't belong here."

"I don't know what you mean, I belong with my family!" She replied stubbornly, refusing to look away from Peter's inquisitive eyes. "Release us! Our parents will worry if we don't go back home!"

"I don't see how this is relevant to me," Peter snarled. "The grow ups' concerns are the least of mine."

"What do you want from us?" She asked, her voice beginning to quiver though there was determination in her sparkling eyes.

She was the oldest, that much was obvious to Peter. For a second he thought that she reminded him of Mercy but he saw the fire in her eyes diminish by the second. It wouldn't be long before she completely subdued and stopped resisting Peter's threats and intimidation techniques.

Mercy would never. She never has, in all the years he kept her close and tested her limits. But her flame only grew in intensity the more time she spent with him. He shook the thought away.

"I want nothing to do with you, silly little girl," Peter laughed in disdain, making her flinch and back away a little. "I have no use for you. Your brothers will stay with me, you can go back to your home and your parents you care so much about."

Peter was taken aback by the vehement protesting that came from the cage next to the girl's when the threatened to separate the siblings. The Lost Boys have had the good idea to lock the girl in another cage so she wasn't with her brothers. John and Michael shook the bars of the cage and shouted all kinds of protests upon hearing that Peter projected to keep them prisoner here.

"Why do you want my brothers? What have we done to you?" The girl wailed. Her defined brown curls bounced with every movement of her head, and the ribbon holding her hair back started to loosen up. She liked like a doll. Fragile. Breakable.

"I need little soldiers for my army and you don't make the cut, nothing personal here, you are simply useless to me."

"We will never be your soldiers!" The oldest boy told him, displaying more assertiveness in this one daring sentence than his sister had during their entire exchange.

"You can't separate us! We'll never obey you! Leave us alone!" The other one added, making Peter smirk at how feisty they all were. He had noticed over the years that the children tended to be bolder when they weren't alone. One more reason to separate them – divide to conquer.

Peter opened his palm and made a dagger appear there, causing the younger brother to gasp in amazement while his two siblings trembled in fear. Before any one of them had a chance to say something, Peter opened the girl' cage in a snap of his fingers and dragged her out, only to hold the weapon up to her throat, earning a round of cries from the three children.

"What if I don't leave you a choice?" He asked the two boys. "Maybe I won't send her home, maybe I'd rather slit her throat, less work and more fun for me this way."

"Monster!" She cried out.

"No, no, please! Wendy did nothing wrong!" John started crying silently.

Pan could feel the girl - Wendy, what a lovely name – shake in his arms as he held her tight so she would escape from his grasp.

"Let me go!" She tried to say between two sobs. "Please!"

Mercy never begs.

"We'll do what you say, just please don't hurt her!" Michael promised, still holding his brother close.

Mercy never gives in.

"Quiet!" He barked at them, prompting a collective whimper followed by silence. The arm he placed around Wendy's shoulders to keep her pressed to his chest felt wet and he realized heavy tears fell from her eyes.

Mercy never cries like a helpless little thing when he showed her the rough side of the hand. She took it as a challenge and doubled her efforts to exceed his expectations.

But Mercy hated him and this pathetic, whimpering little thing crying in his arms was the closest thing to his Mercy he would get. His hand fell down his side and Wendy took this opportunity to dive down and return to her cage, trying to reach out to her brothers through the bars.

Pan vanished, leaving the Darlings to their moment. What was worth his immortal life without Mercy? Even worse, knowing that she hated him?

000

Her throat was sore and her eyes dry – Mercy wasn't much of a crier, but this time she felt it was justified. She had undergone quite an amount of physical torture ever since she got here, whether it be from Peter and the Lost Boys, or from their enemies, but it had only served to toughen her up, nothing she couldn't take. What Peter did to her with his ceaseless attempts to draw her back to him was a whole other level of cruelty. He aimed where it hurt, and she hated him for doing this to her, but most of all she hated him for having such power over her.

She knew the girls were doing all right so she didn't return to camp yet. Not taking the risk of her girls seeing the tears in her eyes. Mercy got lost in the forest – figuratively that is, she could not get lost even if she walked through the heavy jungle blindfolded. Hundreds years of exploring Neverland had done this to her.

Luckily for her the Lost Boys' camp was at a three days journey so she could wander about aimlessly without any danger of bumping into anyone – after the last few hours of turmoil, who knew what kind of hectic state the boys were in? Peter's foul mood never allowed any room for leisure, he had everyone work tirelessly until they were too exhausted to even speak.

Sometimes she wondered if she was really that different from him. Their methods weren't quite the same but in the end they were feared by their peers more than they were respected. Mercy wouldn't bat an eyelash if one day her girls decided to rebel – no doubt being led by Sybil who will soon grow fed up with being constantly reprimanded and assigned on night watch.

Peter Pan had broken her in a way that could not be healed by any magic. Over the first hundred years she spent on the island, she thought he tried to break her spirit to make her malleable, easier to control, even at the risk of diminishing her abilities. But she was wrong. Instead, she gave him her trust, she put her life in his hands, wrongly thinking that he cared about her and wouldn't mishandle it.

No use in saying that she was proven wrong in the harshest manner. The memory stung like a dart to her heart. As she stumbled around, barely looking where she was going, Mercy swallowed back a new set of tears, feeling the gigantic knot in her throat swell even more. Betrayal tasted like copper and rusted iron.

If it weren't for the muffled noised she heard right then, Mercy might have continued to walk farther and farther. Now that she thought of it, she might not be as far as she thought from the Lost Boys' camp since she used magic get away from the field of flowers.

"Who is there?" She asked, her voice sounding exhausted, the weight of her five hundred years of existence heavy on her shoulders this particular day. "I'm not here to play cat and mouse, show yourself or get away from me!"

The noise ceased for a minute before resuming even louder than the first time. She could not see anything around her yet the noise, as stifled as it sounded, came from somewhere close, very close. Finally, Mercy walked past one peculiar looking tree and that was when she figured it out. The noise came from inside the tree, as if something was trying to come _out of it_.

With a single sharp movement of her hand Mercy destroyed the tree's bark to reveal whatever was inside and trying to escape. She had to take a few steps back when a tall blond boy in poor condition fell out of the tree, collapsing on the ground, breathing heavily.

"Felix."

Mercy heard her voice say his name without fully realizing she was the one articulating it. How long had it been since she last saw his scarred face? She remembered the first time her girls meddled with the Lost Boys and she saw Felix's disfigured face, swollen and red from the fresh wound that barred his face. He never told her where it came from but Mercy had her own theory.

He was coughing and struggling to catch his breath. Still on all fours on the ground, he looked like he came straight out of a nightmare.

"I don't need to ask who put you in that tree, or why," she snickered, sounding a lot more bitter than she would have liked.

She herself must look quite different from the last time they met. She knew she was thinner in the face, paler, not like someone who hadn't had a sunbath in a long time , but like someone who lived in the shadows and whose life has been deserted by light and happiness. Mercy was the ghost of herself and she blamed Pan for this. As much as she wanted to take her life into her own hands and move on from what Peter did to her, she could not. It was too hard.

"Mercy, what a pleasure," Felix commented ironically as soon as he recovered his voice. She had almost forgotten how disdainful he sounded. "As a matter of a fact Pan put me in a tree because of you."

She didn't see that coming, however Felix saw her fist coming towards his face and he did nothing to stop her from hitting him. He knew better. If Mercy didn't get her way, she would try another. If he didn't let her vent with her fists, she would use magic against him – Pan rubbed off on her more than she would like to admit, there was nothing new here, Felix came to this conclusion in the early days when Mercy and Pan were still on the same side.

"He still cannot bear the mention of your name," Felix taunted her, deliberately pushing Mercy's buttons. "I wonder if it's the same for you..."

He reached out to touch her but she swatted his hand away. He was trying to make her mad, make her lose her cool. He was very good at being an annoying bastard, always had.

"Peter's name has no place being mentioned in my camp, unless I feel the need to remind the Lost Girls how much of a menace he is. Yours on the other hand comes up quite often, when Sybil and her friends tell the others how they kicked your ass again and again – it makes a good campfire story."

"Don't-"

Mercy's hand flew up and silenced Felix.

"I will not suffer to listen to your whining any longer. If you want to use my name as an excuse to infuriate Pan, do as you please, I don't care." By now she had dropped the act and merely glared his way with her dead, shallow eyes. "But I am no longer the same as when we met, Felix. If you defy me, I will not hesitate as I did in the old times. And remember... I can put you back in a tree just as easily as I freed you."

Before he could process what she just told him and utter another provocative sentence, Mercy turned around and grabbed a branch, ripping it off a tree. The piece of wood transformed in her hand, taking a slightly pointier shape, the tip forming an arrow.

"My greetings to Pan. Tell him I got his message and that there's a forest fire in the meadow."

Using all of her strength, Mercy threw it at Felix whose hands flew up to protect his face. He closed his eyes and felt himself hitting the tree behind him. The arrow hit his collar and pinned him to the tree.

When he opened his eyes, he was not in the forest anymore. Instead he found himself pinning against the tree holding Pan's shack, in the middle of the camp, surrounded by wide-eyed Lost Boys staring in shock.

000

"Try this," Peter instructed, showing her the gesture again and before Mercy's eyes he changed the wooden stick he held in his hand in a real steel sword, sharp enough to cut a man in half. He changed in back so Mercy could try.

"I have been trying to change little pieces of wood in all kinds of objects for weeks, and all I managed to do is set fire to one of them. What makes you think I have a chance with an entire sword?"

"This is different," he told her, walking around her like he always did when he was in a philosophizing mood. "It's not just any object, it's a weapon. It's one of the first and only things the Lost Boys can turn, do you know why?"

Mercy shook her head – obviously she did not know, Peter only asked for rhetorical effect.

"Because it requires very basic emotions – fear, anger, a strong desire to survive. It's easy, you'll see," he promised, wrapping an arm around Mercy and holding onto the stick, guiding her movements. "No one here feels things as profoundly as you do. You're angry, I can feel it. Use that, canalize it, let it flow out of you in form of magic."

"The whole point of anger is to be out of one's control, it just comes out, I can't make it happen," Mercy argued, shaking off Pan's touch. "How do you do it?"

"Me?" He asked, a bit stunned that she would even ask him that question. They didn't play in the same league, they couldn't compare methods. "I do it like I breathe, my dear. It comes naturally."

"Quit being arrogant and cocky, I'm asking for advice here so don't make me regret it," Mercy scoffed, all the while focusing on her bloody stick. It wavered, as if the light played tricks on her minds, distorting reality. But it stayed the same.

"I just wish for it to happen and it does. I don't need to think about it, it just happens. Almost as if it knew what I wanted before me," Pan eventually admitted, reluctantly giving her this personal piece of information.

"This doesn't help!" Mercy complained, lowering her stick. "It's stupid, just admit that you were wrong!"

"Peter Pan does not mak-"

"Don't give me another of your dumb sayings that begin with 'Peter Pan does not', or else you'll have to worry about how much damage I can do with just a wood stick, trust me I don't need a sword to beat your sorry ass!" She threatened.

"My, my, little tiger has claws!" Peter laughed. "What has gotten into you? Are you giving up already? Poor, helpless Mercy can't do a simple magic trick so she throws a fit?" He took a step towards her, expected her to cower away from him but she stood firm on her ground.

"I see what you're trying to do," she said with a triumphant grin. "You want to make me mad, you think I'm not angry enough to turn this into a damn sword."

"You see right through me, dear."

"The anger is not the issue, I have plenty. The problem is that I don't see the point. I don't need the sword right now," she explained. "When the Lost Boys morph a stick into a blade it's because they are fighting, they wouldn't be able to do it if you asked them to do it out of the blue."

"Perhaps," Peter conceded. "But you are not a Lost Boy, you are my precious Mercy. I don't make mistakes, you do have the gift of magic." He smirked, once again displaying the twisted, sick smile that was his signature, the very smile that had made Mercy shiver in her blouse the night they first met in the Enchanted Forest. The devious Pied Piper smile that betrayed his ill intentions towards the transfixed children. He leaned in towards her, his mouth so close her Mercy's ear that she could feel his warm breath brush her cheek – triggering shivers again, but of another nature. "You're just too scared to use it."

And with that, Pan vanished, leaving Mercy in a part of the island she did not know. He did that sometimes when she did not do good enough during their training sessions,he left her someplace she didn't know and she had to navigate her way back to camp, no matter how long it took her. This time her felt fury curse through her veins, rising up inside her like steam.

She could still see Peter's green eyes, his crooked smile teasing her, provoking her. Mercy, as aware as she was of the fact that he toyed with her, couldn't repress the feeling in her stomach, a distinctly different feeling from the one she had when the other boys teased her. She hated it. She despised it. She was frustrated with herself and needed to bash something in to vent before heading back to camp – wherever the hell it was.

In a fit of sheer rage, Mercy threw the stick to the tree in front of her with a scream of fury. To her utter bewilderment an ax, and not a stick, was buried in the bark of the tree. And somewhere in the distance she heard a faint laughter.

000

The air just above Mercy's open palm sizzled faintly, producing a brief spark, gone so quickly she couldn't tell if it was real or if her mind made it up after hours of intense concentration. Her hand was cold, her hair wet, her entire body trembled – she had been standing alone by the cliff for hours now, trying to use magic like Pan taught her.

She had to give him credit for not telling her 'I told you so' when she finally managed to turn her stick into a weapon. It was probably wise of him, she would have put this new skill to use by doing to him what she did to the tree.

"You'll pop a vein," Peter commented, his voice coming from behind her. "It's not something you can force."

"That's not what you were saying when you wanted me to change wood into a sword," she replied, still not breaking eye contact with her hand.

"Looking at it won't do any good either," he continued, ignoring her last statement. "Do you ever see me looking at my hand when I make something appear?"

"You said it yourself, Pan!" Mercy yelled back, lowering her hand. "You play with the big boys, I'm just a beginner, there's no comparing us."

"You twist around everything I say to fit your own purpose," Peter observed. He gave her a once-over, taking in her pitiful appearance. A wave of the hand later Mercy was as good as new, warm and dry. "Admirable. But I'd rather you don't use this skill against me."

"Are you going to help me or did you come all the way here to tell me how much of a failure I am?"

"Here," Pan sighed and walked closer to Mercy. When he was right behind her, he reached for her hand, placing his opened one right under hers and holding it open. "Don't force it, relax and let it flow. Magic is already there, in you." Her capacity to focus was greatly altered by Pan's proximity. He was practically whispering in her ear at this point and Mercy could only focus on his voice, not on what he said. "I can sense it, feel in curse through your body. Right now it's diffuse, like an aura around you. You need to find a way to canalize it, direct it to serve one specific purpose."

Mercy gasped when a blue flame materialized in her palm; her first instinct was to close it, shake off the fire that could potentially hurt her, but Peter held it open.

"You fear it," he said. "Don't. Your own magic cannot hurt you."

"This is... me?" She asked in a hushed tone. She was mesmerized, unable to take her eyes off the dancing flame. It was like a living thing.

"I'm the one creating the flame but I'm using your magic to do it," Peter explained.

He was simply too close. Mercy's back was pressed to his chest, she could feel it rise with every breath he drew. The amount of effort it took her not to lean back into him was tremendous.

"Feel it. Like a river inside you. Redirect its course."

His voice was calm and soothing, miles away from the usual bossy tone and his devious smirk was gone, Mercy sensed it. His directions helped her as much as the hypnotic sound of his voice uttering in her ear. His hand slowly let go of hers and the flame died down, not entirely, but it was barely visible.

"You're staring at it again," Peter said. "Close your eyes."

Mercy did as instructed, surprising herself for obeying. It must have been years since her first encounter with Pan, years of tough physical training during which she stood her ground and resisted him in every possible way.

For a while she didn't feel a thing, simply standing there with her eyes closed, Pan holding her shoulders and whispering encouragement in her ear, her palm turned towards the sky. Mercy focused on feeling rather than forcing, like Pan said. She waited until she could feel the magic run through her veins before attempting to direct it. Her palm remained open and cold, she thought she wasn't doing anything when suddenly-

"Open your eyes Mercy," Peter told her.

But what really woke her up from her trance was Pan detaching his body from her back. Her eyes snapped open and what she saw took her breath away.

"I knew you had it in you," Peter told her, standing next to her now.

Mercy had to forcefully remove her eyes from the beauty floating above her palm. There, right in her hand, was a magnificent, glowing, blue flower, and yet all her attention was directed at Peter's proud, glimmering, green eyes. Without flinching, Peter grabbed the flower from her and tucked it in her hair. Meanwhile Mercy's heart tried to hammer its way out of her chest as she realized just how much she had wanted this – Peter, smiling genuinely for her; Peter being proud of her; Peter showing he was human after all, and all because of one, little flower.


	7. Chapter 7

Everything changed the day Peter brought Felix to Neverland. He was older than all of the other Lost Boys, more difficult to control, and he hated Mercy – a feeling that she returned. The boy had no respect for anything other than Pan, whom he became entirely devoted to from one day to the next. Blinded by his own pride, Peter did not see the problem Felix might represent. The younger ones were in awe of the new boy who was so much taller, stronger, so much _older_. Mercy seemed to be the only one wary of him. And before she could think about it too hard, she was lurking in the shadows, looming over Pan's shoulder to make sure Felix didn't try anything.

Why on earth did she feel entitled to protect him? When has she stopped being the one who meant him harm? At some point in her life Mercy plotted against Pan, she was willing to hurt any and all Lost Boy who stood between her and her freedom.

"Pick up the sword," Pan instructed, circling the new boy and sighing impatiently. He was an obtuse student, it was hard to get through to him. "Again!"

Felix dived forward, throwing his entire body towards Pan and tripping when Pan disappeared, only to reappear behind Felix's back, laughing humorlessly.

"Not good enough, you need to think before making your move."

Mercy couldn't help the scoff that escaped her lips, surprised by the powerful feeling of disdain that overwhelmed her. She knelt down on a branch to get a better look. She would swear Peter's eyes glanced towards her, but there was no telling since he did not change this behavior in the slightest. He simply resumed his personal training – when he had told Mercy that their training sessions would become more scarce because he wanted to take charge of the new one too, she went out of her mind angry and advising him to be careful, that she didn't trust him.

"Oh so I take it this means you trust me?" Peter had asked her, effectively making her stop talking and blush. Mercy was just about to start screaming again when Pan continued, "You wound me, Mercy. Thinking that some village boy would defeat me." He had walked around Mercy and leaned over her shoulder to whisper a quick "Peter Pan never fails," before vanishing.

And now he was training him like he did for her, while Mercy observed from higher up in a tree, fighting off the foreign feeling swelling up in her chest and making her hands shoot little sparks. Whatever it was she was feeling, it was strong enough to set off her magic without her consent.

"You're slow!" Peter complained, apparently still not satisfied with Felix's performance.

The boy was taller than him, but he didn't know how to fight efficiently. He used brute force, thought it was enough to knock anyone out. He refused to take Pan's advice and kept attacking again and again using all his strength but never hitting Pan, who was swift and sly. He barely moved, merely stepping out of the way, just enough to dodge the attack.

From her nest box, Mercy saw all the flaws in Felix's strategy – or lack thereof. He held the sword with both hands, at arms' length – he was too rigid, not pliant enough, if Peter was to attack him he wouldn't be able to deflect the blow. He did not use his surroundings to his advantage. Not that Mercy did perfectly when she first came here, but she always knew how to use everything around her to serve her purpose. Maybe it was simply a side-effect of being a girl, while Felix probably never had to worry about that – she didn't know how old he was but she figured he must be around sixteen, Peter never chose them older than that, so he must be the tallest boy of his age wherever he used to live.

"Mercy!" Peter suddenly called her, interrupting her train of thought. "Come down here." She didn't hesitate to jump down the branch however high it was; she used magic to absorb the impact.

"I thought this was a private session," Felix growled.

"You can't hide anything from me, better get used to it," she said with a smile that only made it sound more threatening.

"Claws back, tiger," Peter murmured as he placed himself next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Our new member here needs to see what _fighting_ really looks like."

Without deeming it necessary to give her a warning, Peter began to attack, sending a treacherous blow to Mercy's knee and making her collapse. However she blocked out the second blow that was meant for her face. She grabbed Peter's wrist and pulled it downwards before swooping his right foot off to make him lose his balance – he was sufficiently taken aback to stumble a bit and lean down but he did not fall to his knees like Mercy had hoped.

"See? She knows I'm stronger than her, so she finds weaknesses in my defense and exploits them," Peter live-commented their fight for the by stander who huffed, unwilling to admit that a girl did better than him. But the fight was barely started.

Before Pan could say another word in his condescending voice, Mercy struck. She executed a feint, and while Peter protected his side, she hit him right in the sternum, momentarily depriving him of his breath. Peter stumbled back and Mercy took these few seconds of confusion on his part to circle around him, like he did to others – a technique of intimidation and disorientation he loved to use and use again. When she had him where she wanted Peter gasped for breath, a crooked, satisfied smirk plastered on his infuriatingly playful face.

Mercy had no idea whether Pan smiled throughout the whole fight because he was absolutely certain to kick her ass without so much as breaking a sweat, or if he did it to infuriate her and make her give a hundred percent. Only Mercy never gave a hundred percent during training. She wanted to keep that for when she would have to actually face Pan, keeping to herself what she was really capable of for the day when Peter and her would not be on the same side anymore.

Pan materialized a blade, no more than twelve inches long and curved. Mercy jumped back just in time, hearing the blade swoosh by her stomach – it nearly hit its target, she would have been left with an open wound running all across her stomach.

"Cheater!" Mercy barked at Pan.

She took the opportunity of him smiling smugly, no doubt about to remind her that there were no rules on Neverland, to attack him in return. She had spotted a low branch hanging not to high above their heads earlier and in one skillful move, Mercy jumped up, holding onto the thick branch and swinging herself toward Pan, hitting him in the chest with both feet. She then climbed on top of the branch, situating herself higher and out of reach for her opponent.

"Well played, I'll give you that," he commented after spitting out some dirt. It was Mercy's turn to smirk proudly, reveling in the fact that she put Pan down, seeing him laying in the mud - even for the a second - was priceless. "Don't be too confident though."

Pan raised two fingers then lowered them. Mercy felt the pull of gravity before her brain processed what she saw. With a loud crack and the ruffle of leaves, the branch detached from the tree and fell down, along with Mercy. She landed badly, her lower back landing on the branch – she was sure to get a nasty bruise after that.

"No more magic now," Peter instructed. "I promise," he vowed, raising his right hand in good faith.

Except Mercy knew this trick, and before he had the chance to attack again, she rolled to the left, making Felix step back – she had forgotten about him. She was right and as soon as she moved, Peter's magic manifested itself in a multitude of roots and crawling plants grew out of the ground and reached for her where she previous lied. Mercy jumped to her feet. While Peter stood a few feet away from her, Mercy regained her breath. She realized her lip was bleeding – did she bite it by accident when she fell from the branch?

"The newbie won't learn anything if you keep using magic to avoid the actual fight," Mercy provoked Peter, earning a displeased scowl. "What is it Pan? You taught me so well you're afraid to face me in a fist fight?"

Of course she was foolish to think that she could trick the trickster with this poor attempt at pushing his buttons, he saw it coming from miles away. But he appreciated the effort, he knew it would work on most people – for example, on their new friend Felix who was unbelievably quick-tempered.

"All talk, no action," Peter provoked her right back, smirking again when he saw Mercy's left eyebrow twitch – a sign of anger he had come to understand.

The next half hour was spent like this – Mercy and Peter panting and fighting like it was some elaborate dance. They never quite hurt each other but never gave up either. Each of them waiting, hoping that the other would recognize their superiority in hand to hand combat or at least acknowledge their skill in Mercy's case. She wasn't naive enough to think that Pan taught her everything he knew – if he was so much as half as intelligent and wry as he thought he was. She would do the same, and was aware of her position of inferiority in this situation. However it didn't mean that she had no chance; she was stubborn, determined, and strong. Even Peter knew that he had to watch out for her, especially since she began to learn magic.

After the first few failed attempts she almost gave up, but now that she got the hang of it she didn't stop progressing, quickly, very quickly.

When Mercy was sore and her strength slowly left her, Pan dismissed her, congratulating her as he led her away from their small training spot in the forest. He waited until he was out of eavesdrop to give the first compliment. Felix shouldn't expect the same treatment, Mercy was an exception, a rarity deserving of every last praise he deigned throw her way, like a bone to a dog.

That was what he repeated himself daily, though he could not find the analogy more poorly chosen when he met her eyes – her hopeful, sparkling eyes. He had noticed her change of attitude of course. Where there used to be contempt there was now respect. For some reason she had taken a liking to him, and now embraced her life on Neverland, no longer waiting in the shadow for the opportunity to stab him in the back to arise. The reason behind this sudden change was unknown to him, but he did not complain.

He liked the girl. She was fine in every possible way. Silver tongued, delicate, clever, ruthless, eager to learn, unyielding – he could go on forever. She slowly earned her spot of second in command – Pan made her shed sweat, blood, and tears for it, but he knew she would access to the position as soon as he laid eyes on her. It had always been her spot. Peter didn't need a second in command in the first place.

"Why are you looking at me like this?" Mercy asked, bringing Pan back on earth.

"Can't I admire what's mine?" He asked, grinning smugly and looking down at her with a mischievous glimmer in his green eyes.

"Me? Yours?" Mercy scoffed. "In your dreams!"

She turned on her heels and walked back to camp, leaving Pan to his tough teachings and his new pupil. He did not return to Felix right away but watched his Lost Girl strut away, somewhat rigidly because of the beating she took, but her chin high. He laughed silently as he watched her disappear in the woods.

"Precisely, my little tiger. Precisely."

000

Disgruntled and wounded in his ego, Felix ran back to camp a lot more quickly than usual. By now Peter must have found out about the surprise the Shadow dropped at the camp, the three newcomers among which a girl no less. They had never had a girl at camp other than Mercy – after a while Pan's appearances as the Pied Piper in the Enchanted Forest became more scarce, he delegated the task of bringing new Lost Boys to the Shadow. It never brought anything by young boys, Felix being the notable exception since he was older than most of them. But Peter was the only one who picked a girl – who picked _Mercy_.

Damn this girl, damn her arrogance, and her ability to plague Pan's mind even decades after last seeing him. What else could Felix do to make Pan focus back on the Lost Boys? What could make him forget this demon-girl haunting his every waking moment? He needed to get his priorities straight, he was letting Neverland wither away, slowly gained by shadow and obscurity because he could not get over his sorrow.

If he had a chance to win this fight, Felix would have tried to kill Mercy, but she was a better fighter from day one. The memory of Mercy and Pan's lethal dance during one of his – wannabe – private training sessions still burned in his mind. It was a humiliation he knew he would never forget. After that he tried to listen to Pan's instructions more attentively, but while he progressed in sword fighting, Mercy learned to master the art of magic, growing more powerful with each of Pan's teachings.

Then again, he could understand that a part of Pan was obsessed with the girl, she was one of a kind. Even Felix had a heart, and a soft spot for a person in particular. If anyone were to discover it, he would suffer great consequences.

His feet finally reached the camp and whispers erupted on his way, the other Lost Boys giving him worried or pitiful glances as he strutted towards Pan who was standing back to him. He was in for a world of trouble.

"Oh, someone finally decided to grace us with his presence," Pan snickered without even turning around. "Not too soon."

Felix had to bite his tongue to not drop a cutting remark about his delay having something to do with his being trapped inside a tree. He did not apologize either since Lost Boys weren't allowed to say sorry.

"What can I do for you, Pan?" He asked instead, doing his best to fight off the angry scowl on his face. His skin was still crawling from his recent experience as being an integral part of nature.

"The girl will be a problem," Peter said, turning around to look at his incompetent second in command. "Come up with a cage, something practical but not on solid ground. I want her to been in plain sight for her brothers to see."

"Why?"

Peter glared at him, not happy about his directions being questioned. Felix swallowed hard.

"To keep them in line. They need to be reminded that it's not their lives on the line if they misbehave," Pan explained, feeling lenient.

"Won't they try to free her?" Felix asked.

"Of course they will," Peter laughed, a cunning smile stretching his lips. "There would be no fun if they didn't."

"I need to talk to you about something," Felix blurted out, earning Pan's undivided attention now.

"Isn't it what we're doing at this moment?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You'll want to keep this private I think."

"And who are you to tell me what I want?" Pan suddenly barked, his voice rising in volume and attracting some curious eyes. "Spit it out!"

Felix's hands balled into fists, then he stretched out his fingers and wiped his palms on his pants, feeling unsure suddenly. He did not want to face Pan's fury alone, but it was still better than being once again humiliated in front of the rest of the Lost Boys. According to Pan's impatient expression Felix better speak up now.

"I ran into Mercy in the woods."

The whole camp froze, all conversations ceasing as soon as the forbidden name crossed Felix's lips. His mouth ran dry as Peter's stiff expression became angrier by the second. His eyebrow twitched, his jaw set, and in a split second he transported Felix and himself to a remote location in the forest, away from prying eyes and curious ears.

"Speak. Now."

His tone was chilling and harsh, sharp like a sword's edge. Felix regretted telling him already, though he knew it would have been tenfold worse if he tried to hide it from Pan.

"I don't know what she did so close to our camp, but she's the one who freed me from your tr- from the tree. There's not much to say. She got me out, spoke ill of you, threatened me, and gave me a message to forward."

" _What message_?" Pan prompted him, stepping closer to Felix in such a menacing way that the blond boy felt like he was the smaller one in this situation.

"She sends her regards to you, and said to tell you that she got your message and that there's a forest fire in the meadow." Felix frowned in confusing at the last part, obviously not knowing what she was referring to, but Pan seemed to get it.

To Felix's utter amazement, Pan did not try to punish him, instead he disappeared again, leaving Felix in the middle of the forest, someplace on the island.


	8. Chapter 8

Mercy stomped within the camp borders like a fury, the air made electric around her, quite literally sizzling. As soon as the girls saw what kind of mood she was in, they fell silent, waiting for a word, an order, something. She didn't say anything, instead she materialized a curved sword. The girls to her right jumped back as she approached but she only raised her weapon when she reached the target tree. It was normally used to practice archery for the young girls because the target was large and close. Only this time Mercy wrecked it, stroke after stroke she destroyed the tree until the red paint was completely scraped off. Screaming and grunting, she let steam off until the sword broke in two, and she froze.

The girls were tense and still, holding their breath in fear of getting beheaded by mistake. Not that Mercy ever made mistakes like this. One of them at least decided to speak up before the accumulated tense would make a storm break.

"Did something happened?" A tiny voice asked. It was a new one, a small girl who didn't know Mercy well enough to be paralyzed by the mere thought of interrupting one of her anger fits.

Mercy sighed, her shoulders fell and she dropped the broke sword. It vanished before hitting the ground.

"You could say so," she eventually snickered without any trace of humor. The others stared at their leader wide-eyed. "Sorry about the mess."

With a dismissive hand gesture she made the chopped wood and dust disappear. Her girls were still hesitant to say anything, and they stared even more obviously after hearing her apologize for an outburst.

"Don't stay there ogling me, go back to work."

As the usual hustle resumed around her and Mercy was about to head back to the training field to do some more damage on another poor tree, Winnie and Dorothy followed her, sharing a quick glance to agree on finding out what was going on. Mercy as temperamental as she could be, did not often lose her composure in public. Not to mention that she had been using a tremendous amount of magic these days, which was completely out of character for her – there was a time when she barely acknowledged that she could use it.

"What do you want?" Mercy asked the girls who were following her to the field, not turning around as she spoke.

"Tell us what happened," Dorothy said, her voice not even wavering as she gave a direct order to her leader and Winnie stared at her in shock.

Mercy froze.

"My, my, you sure gained in confidence my dear Dorothy," she laughed, putting her hands on her hips as she did so. The girls stopped walking and still stood a few steps behind her – maybe it was for the best if they didn't meet her gaze. "I suppose there is no point in keeping the truth from you, and I haven't had a chance to properly vent in a while."

"A while? You just massacred a tree in front of the whole camp!" Winnie exclaimed in a tone that could only be qualified as reproachful. For what it was worth, Mercy wasn't proud of herself, and if even quiet Winnie raised her voice at her, she must have made quite the show. "You scared the young ones!"

"They know I wouldn't hurt them," Mercy replied sharply, finally turning around to meet her girls' scolding glares. When had they become so bold?

"No, Mercy, they don't," Dorothy answered. "None of us know what you are truly capable of, we simply chose the lesser of two evils."

"Two evils? You put me in the same box as Pan?" Mercy spat back, her nostrils flaring in rage already.

"You have no idea, do you?" Winnie asked again, her voice low and gentle this time. Mercy highly disliked the look on her face, the pity she read on it. She didn't want anyone to feel bad for her. "How long has this been going on? How long have you secluded yourself? You talk to no one, you give orders and teach us how to survive, but you have no idea how to _live_!"

"It's killing you slowly, and you'll take us with you if you go down," Dorothy concluded. "Speak to us. What happened? Meddling with your soldiers won't make you any less of a great general."

"Don't be obtuse, you're not soldiers to me," Mercy told them in a sigh.

She wasn't sure she had enough fight left in her body to go against her girls, this was too far out of her comfort zone. Too close to where it hurt. The last time she had entrusted someone it ended really badly for her, and since then she kept to herself – how many years had it been? She lost count, but it seemed that she was finally at the verge of bursting.

"But we are!" Dorothy protested. Her golden hair always made her look out of place in the hostile forest. "We get dumped on this dull island and you expect us to toughen up and fight for you because of some out dated grief you have against Pan!"

"You have no idea what he's capable of!" Mercy replied, a pained expression on her tired face.

They couldn't understand, they had never lived amongst the Lost Boys. No one could fathom the extent of Pan's cruelty towards those he considered below himself. And while Mercy was no role model and had had her own low moments, she was never pointlessly cruel towards others.

"Then tell us! What exactly did he do?! Why do we keep fighting?"

Mercy snapped and turned around, resuming her angry walk to the training field. But her girls were stubborn and trained never to give up – talk about getting bitten in the ass – so they followed her. Winnie shuddered when Mercy picked up a bow and a quiver full of arrows.

"You want to know how Peter Pan abducted me? Took me from my parents in the dark of the night for no reason?" She fired the first arrow, hit the closest target. "You want to hear the lovely tale of how I spent the first few weeks on Neverland in a cage, starved for talking back?" The second arrow she shot right next to the first one, right in the center of the target. "The way he subdued me? Made me train until my bones hurt? Bruised every inch of my body under the pretext of toughening me up? Dangled hope before my eyes so I would obey his order blindly? Manipulated me into thinking I had a change of getting off this doomed island so I would fight for him? Is that what you want to hear?"

As she rambled on and on about everything Pan made her endure, Mercy shot arrow after arrow, not even aiming at the target anymore but at farther, smaller targets in the trees.

"Do you want to hear me cry about how I have been betrayed and am ow forced to live here forever? Would you not rather have a confident, reliable leader who shows no hesitation whatsoever? I didn't ask for this! I didn't start kidnapping little girls in the middle of the night because loneliness bore me. Peter sends you to me, he keeps me busy with you. He makes sure I have my hands too full to rebel and attempt to escape. He knows I wouldn't abandon any of you behind!"

Dorothy and Winnie stood there, their arms hanging by their side and their eyes wide as ever, speechless. It must have been the first time they heard Mercy speak that much all at once. Unsure of what to do or to say, they remained still, waiting for Mercy to finish, hoping that she would feel better after letting some steam off.

"I don't even know why I tell you all of this. It's none of your business, and as you said, it's outdated. You're right, you girls have no reason to fight the Lost Boys other than the one I gave you. But it's important that we do. If we don't keep busy, we'll go crazy, trust me on this if not on anything else. As much as I would like it to be different, we are all stuck on this island, and we have all eternity to fall into madness."

Mercy was out of arrows, and her temper cooled down. She was done having silly outbursts like an over emotional little girl. She might be stuck forever in this young body, but her soul was old enough to know that it was a fleeting moment of weakness that she shouldn't repeat.

"Is there no hope at all?" Winnie asked after a long moment of quietness.

When Mercy's eyes met hers, she saw tears and infinite sadness.

"There is always hope. And that's why I make you train and fight. Right now, the future might seem gloomy, but it one day Pan ever made a mistake, we would only have one shot at freedom."

"Thank you for telling us," she told her, going as far as to reach out and place a friendly hand on Mercy's shoulder.

Winnie was such a gentle soul. Mercy didn't know why she was here, what had happened to her in the Enchanted Forest for the Shadow to pick her out of everyone else. Mercy never asked the girls about unpleasant things of the past, though maybe she should, maybe they would like it if she showed a little more interest in them. She didn't keep her questions to herself out of disinterest, but because she hated dwelling on past things so naturally she didn't put her nose in other people's past either. Her own hand covered Winnie's, and the two girls exchanged a look that no words would account for.

"Come, take a bow you two," Mercy declared, and Dorothy huffed with a smile on her face, faint but genuine. "I challenge you to do better than me."

"What's in it for us?" Dorothy inquired, one eyebrow raised in defiance. She sure felt daring today.

"Play with me, and I'll tell you what happened today," Mercy offered, and after sharing a quick nod, Winnie and Dorothy grabbed their weapons and took position.

Her thoughts brought her back to Pan the moment those words crossed her lips – it was rather like him to offer information in exchange for entertainment and to speak of games and playing. Surely no one could spend as much time as she did with Pan without picking up a thing or two from them? She could only hope that this didn't only go one way and that maybe – maybe – he had picked up something from her too.

Dorothy fired the first arrow and made a perfect hit, smiling widely at Mercy in a way she hadn't done in a long time. They were so very right – Mercy had gone cold and aloof, her girls barely knew her anymore. If only she put a little effort into being kind her relationship with the Lost Girls would greatly improve and benefit both sides.

"So what has you cutting a whole tree into split wood?" She wondered, briefly glancing at Mercy before shooting an arrow in a tree, only for a pheasant to drop a second later. "I caught dinner."

"How did you even see it?" Winnie asked in wonder, already running to pick up the creature and retrieve the arrows fired so far.

"She's hungry," Mercy answer in Dorothy's stead and the girl stared, impressed that she would even notice that. "When you're hungry, you learn to see the potential food."

"That doesn't tell us what has you so upset," the blonde-haired girl pointed out just as Winnie came back with their dinner hanging over her shoulder.

She dropped it and grabbed her bow, aimed, and fired.

"I never hit the target," she grumbled when her arrow hit the tree but missed the red paint.

It visibly infuriated her and it was understandable. Winnie was the closest in age to Mercy and one of the girls who has been living on Neverland the longest. She used to be good at archery, but then the accident happened. After a long day of training and during a fight with the Lost Boys, arrows, hands, rocks, and other weapons of fortune where flying around, and one of them hit Winnie. Since that day she lost some of her sight on her left eye, sometimes her vision even went all black when she was tired. Her aim had never been the same anymore. Try as she might, Mercy could not heal such damage.

Winnie never blamed her – at least not out loud – for not being able to give her back the use of her eye. She worked even harder in hand to hand combat and learned to trust her other senses more instead. Still, she picked up her bow and tried again, refusing to give up just yet.

"You don't have to be good at everything," Mercy reminded her. "And if you must know, I ran into Felix while being on a rampage in the woods."

This time Winnie completely missed the tree.

"Wow, that one was way off, Winnie!" Dorothy laughed and gave her a tap on the shoulder. "Felix, huh? Haven't seen this one in a long time, I thought he stopped trying to wander on girls' territory."

"He did," Mercy sighed, rubbing her eyes with her thumb and forefinger.

Her state of exhaustion was such that she couldn't even bother to hide it today. Whether it was due to physical weariness or emotional exhaustion that was hard to tell. With her head tilted to the left, Dorothy frowned in incomprehension.

"W-what do you mean?" Winnie asked.

She targets had lost her interest and now she only looked at Mercy, waiting for an answer.

"He hasn't stepped foot on your part of the island in ages and today was no exception. To be truthful he couldn't have if he wanted to," she huffed, a small smile of satisfaction painted on her lips. "That dimwit pushed Pan's buttons and ended up trapped inside a tree. I must be the last thing he expected to encounter, or owe his freedom to. I rejoice in the knowledge that he must dread the idea of owing me any kind of debt."

"In a tree?!" Winnie exclaimed, putting away her bow and joining Dorothy's side.

"What were you doing so far out in the woods?" Dorothy wondered, crossing her arms over her chest.

Mercy's eyes were darted on an arrowhead, inspecting it minutely while thinking about what to say next. There were things that she mistakenly held back from her girls, that much was true. But it didn't mean that she had to shared everything. Some thoughts, some emotions were her own, and for no one else to witness or know about.

"I was thinking and I wandered too far away from the camp."

Dorothy and Winnie, as daring as they felt today, were not reckless enough to call Mercy a liar to her face.

"What did he say?" Winnie asked.

"Who?" Mercy frowned.

"Felix. What did he say?" Winnie insisted.

"Nothing of any importance or interest. He gloated and spat his venom like the snake he is," Mercy scoffed, obviously feeling a great deal of enmity towards this Lost Boy in particular.

Winnie never mentioned it but she noticed a few differences in the way Mercy spoke of the Lost Boys, of Felix, or of Pan. While the Lost Boys as a group she merely considered an inconvenience and victims of circumstances, Felix she despised for being weak and useless – according to her – and she often called him stupid and thoughtless. Whereas Pan, while she hated him with every fiber of her being, she still held in high respect. She valued his skills although she disapproved of his methods. In many ways, she was still under his influence, though Winnie couldn't blame her for it, for she saw her try her damnest to shake it off.

"Inside a tree..." Dorothy repeated slowly, picturing the scene. "I wish I had been there to see it."

After that they asked no more questions, and since Mercy seemed to have calmed down from her earlier fit of rage, they decided to go back to the camp. Night was falling and the girls must be hungry, they had orders to wait for everyone to come back before starting to eat. It was an easy way to take the roll and make sure no one was forgotten or got lost in the forest during a hunting trip.

With Mercy's pheasant and easygoing smiles on their faces, the girls were greeted like royalty by the others. And the mood lightened even more when the sweet smell of roasted pheasant reached their noses, further rousing their hungry stomachs.

To everyone's utter amazement Mercy laughed heartily with her girls, and no one complained. For the first time in decades, she forgot that she wasn't here by choice, that this was her prison, and not her kingdom. She was no leader, she was a Lost Girl. She was the Lost Girl. The one without which all the others would still be with their families.

Their feast lasted well into the night, until the moon was high and drowning everything in her pale light. Their dinner had turned into an evening of celebration – of what she didn't know, but she was glad, and her heart didn't ache for a short while.

And when she lowered her guard enough and allowed herself to have a good time, someone inevitably took advantage of the situation. Under the cover of the night, Winnie silently slipped away, being careful not to alert anyone.

Devastated. There was barely anything left from the previously breath-taking meadow filled to the brim with shiny blue flowers glowing in the dark. The flames had engulfed it until everything was but ashes and thick black smoke. The ground itself would stay sterile for years after such a cataclysm. Peter Pan always knew that Mercy was a force of nature but now he had proof. She spared but one flower – a feeble, delicate thing in the middle of the ravaged meadow, struggling to breathe, to stay alive. Alone.

Oddly enough that was pretty close to how Peter felt. He used his hand to swipe the air in front of him from left to right, wiping away the remnants of flames and glowing ashes. Neverland ached, and so did Peter upon being inflicted such a wound. He felt as though the burn was on his heart. He knelt down to touch the hurting ground and he felt it screaming. The flying specks of ashes stained his clothing and made it difficult to breathe – though he hadn't been able to breathe properly since the fateful day Mercy left him so what more damage couch a bit of ash do?

His hand was black when he lifted it up from the ground. His green eyes darkened upon seeing what Mercy had done. It wasn't in her habit to destroy, she never liked to destroy things with her magic, that was more his specialty. Mercy on the other hand always tried to repair, to heal. She was like a balm: soothing. He thought he was finally taking a step towards her, that he learned from her – but his gesture was interpreted a different way. Instead of a peace offering, Mercy took it as the ultimate insult, and she made sure he would know about her discontent.

And thus the roles were exchanged: Pan the peace maker, and Mercy the destroyer. He never thought he would live a day like this. Peter Pan, for all his years on this earth, for all his knowledge and trickery, had no idea what to do in a situation like this. After years away from her, he had finally grown weary, and decided to reach out to her.

But he wasn't foolish enough to think that it would be easy. A smirk stretched his lips, and he stood up. He was not giving up.


	9. Chapter 9

Devastated. There was barely anything left from the previously breath-taking meadow filled to the brim with shiny blue flowers glowing in the dark. The flames had engulfed it until everything was but ashes and thick black smoke. The ground itself would stay sterile for years after such a cataclysm. Peter Pan always knew that Mercy was a force of nature but now he had proof. She spared but one flower – a feeble, delicate thing in the middle of the ravaged meadow, struggling to breathe, to stay alive. Alone, looking pitiful and bent, as though it knew what happened, and grieved.

Oddly enough that was pretty close to how Peter felt. He used his hand to swipe the air in front of him from left to right, wiping away the remnants of flames and glowing ashes. Neverland ached, and so did Peter upon being inflicted such a wound. He felt as though the burn was on his heart. He knelt down to touch the hurting ground and he felt it screaming in agony. The flying specks of ash stained his clothing and made it difficult to breathe – though he hadn't been able to breathe properly since the fateful day Mercy left him so what more damage couch a bit of ash do?

His hand was black when he lifted it up from the ground. His green eyes darkened upon seeing what Mercy had done. It wasn't in her habit to destroy, she never liked to destroy things with her magic, that was more his specialty. Mercy on the other hand always tried to repair, to heal. She was like a balm: soothing. He thought he was finally taking a step towards her, that he learned from her – but his gesture was interpreted a different way. Instead of a peace offering, Mercy took it as the ultimate insult, and she made sure he would know about her discontent.

And thus the roles were exchanged: Pan the peace maker, and Mercy the destroyer. He never thought he would live a day like this. Peter Pan, for all his years on this earth, for all his knowledge and trickery, had no idea what to do in a situation like this. After years away from her, he had finally grown weary, and decided to reach out to her.

But he wasn't foolish enough to think that it would be easy. A smirk stretched his lips, and he stood up. He was not giving up.

000

Mercy foot wriggled nervously in a fashion that clearly showed her annoyance. Today was meant to be a relaxing day, and the growing hustle outside of the shack was beginning to get on her nerves, and distracted her from the book in her hands. Where the hell was Pan? He should already be down there yelling at the perpetrators of such noise.

A few weeks ago Pan had decided to give Mercy a token of his trust in her and a reward for her hard work, and let her use his personal library. It was but a shelf give a handful of old-looking books, yet she couldn't have asked for more. She had always loved stories and hadn't realized ho much she missed reading until Pan brought up the subject. Her daily chores were done, it was only ten past noon and she was determined to enjoy the rest of the day, noisy Lost Boys or not.

That is, until they actually started to wreak havoc in the camp, undoubtedly taking full advantage of Peter's absence – where was he? With a grunt, Mercy slammed her book shut and put it back on its shelf. Her left eyebrow was already twitching upon opening the door of Peter's shack as violently as she could, which earned her silence at long last. All the Lost Boys froze and stared at her in fear as she walked down the steps and up to where the bustle was.

"Where is Pan? Or Felix?" She barked at one boy who nearly wet himself right then and there under her fiery glare.

She stood in front of the trembling thing with her arms crossed until he mumbled out an answer.

"I cannot hear you, speak up!" She ordered.

She was not used to playing judge and jury in the camp; most of the time Mercy stood behind Pan, looking threatening and broodingly silent, and it did the trick to keep the Boys in line. But when she did exercise her role of Second in Command, she was a force to be reckoned with.

"They l-left an hour ago M-Mercy," the young boy stuttered and looked at his feet while talking.

"And you lot found nothing better to do than misbehave the second your leader stepped out of camp?" She asked, turning around and staring at all of them. They all ended up looking down in shame.

"We just wanted to play pirates," another one dared to say, causing yet another eyebrow twitch as Mercy slowly spun around to have a closer look at the bold Lost Boy who thought it a smart idea to answer her rhetorical question.

"It wasn't really a question, Marlon," Mercy barked at him and the boy cowered. "And what exactly do you have here?" She lunged forward and grabbed what the boy was holding and trying to conceal behind his back.

Everybody stopped breathing as Mercy took in what she saw. It was a branch of Dreamshade. How thoughtless could these young idiots be? Did they not listen to a work Pan told them? Did they not believe him?

"Do you know what this is?" Mercy asked, her tone flat and calm, and yet even more alarming than her shrieking tone when she yelled at the Lost Boys.

The thin black branch twirled between her fingers, Mercy waved it under Marlon's nose as if to dare him to say no. Everybody on Neverland knew about Dreamshade and its lethal properties.

"What on earth would pirates do with Dreamshade?" She wondered aloud, feigning to think about it.

Marlon's complexion was slowly going whiter and whiter as he realized his lie was coming apart. The boy jumped back in fear when Mercy made a quick move with her hand, feigning to approach the branch and its poisonous thorns from his cheek. A laugh fell from her lips.

"You!" She pointed at a quivering Lost Boy who was sitting on the ground, looking scared witless – of what she didn't know. "Tell me what happened and I'll _forget_ to mention your name when I report to Pan later."

The poor boy looked positively sick, he was gray in the face, and wobbled on his feet when the boy next to him helped him up before speaking to Mercy.

"Speak now, the offer only stands for so long," she pressed him, growing impatient. She only wanted to instil some fear in them and return to her book knowing they won't dare to disturb her a second time.

He was one of the knew boys, Mercy could not remember his name, and if she had to guess she would say he was being pushed around by the others for being the new guy and a very young one at that. No older than eight when most of them were around thirteen.

"What's your name?" She asked. He blinked lazily, and she briefly wondered if he could even hear her.

"His name's Jack," the boy who helped him up told her – Devin if she remembered well.

"Jack. Jack?" Mercy called, kneeling in front of him this time.

The boy was still not looking at her, his eyes glazed over and looking past her as though she wasn't right in front of him. Then it clicked. Mercy's face whipped to her left to look at Marlon.

"What have you done? This boy has been poisoned!"

Marlon's lower lip quivered so hard he couldn't have answered in an articulate fashion if he had tried. The dawning realization that he had made a grave mistake and would have to answer for it was slowly overcoming him. Mercy's concern was not on him right now though.

"You take care of him while I go get Pan," she ordered Devin and a few others who looked more like innocent bystanders than active participants in this mess.

A relaxing day, it was supposed to b a relaxing day, Mercy thought to herself as she bolted from where she was kneeling and rushed out of the camp, disappearing through the bushy trees, as if swallowed by the thick greenery of Neverland. Her feet carried her as quickly as they could from one place to another, going to every spot she could think of where Peter would take Felix to train him. Dreamshade was not just any poison, it was fast and lethal, and probably even more so on such a small child.

Acting quickly was crucial, therefore she had to push herself a little more in order to find Peter before it was too late to save the boy. Without paying attention to where she stepped like she usually did when she walked through the forest, Mercy slipped and tripped in the mud and unstable ground, but she kept going.

"Peter! Peter, where are you?!" Mercy shouted in the open space, hoping against hope that he was somewhere close and not on the other side of the island wasting his time training stupid Felix.

"Peter, I need you, c'mon! Show yourself!" She kept on calling him, growing antsy and impatient.

Suddenly there was a pop to her right, and there he stood.

"Need me?" Peter asked with a boyish grin on his face as though he was been around all this time but waited for her to say that to show himself.

Instead of replying with her usual bite, Mercy threw herself at Pan and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

"Something happened, we have to go back to the camp!" She told him, and Peter must have seen the urgency in her eyes because his smirk dropped.

He took her hand in his, and in the blink of an eye he transported them both to camp, right in his shack.

"Come with me," Mercy ordered him, dragging him behind her by the arm.

In any other circumstances he would have scolded her for ordering him around, or teased her for holding onto his hand the way she did, but even Peter Pan knew when it wasn't the right moment to crack a joke.

"The boys were messing around and Jack got scratched by Dreamshade," Mercy told Peter when they reached the group of Lost Boys all surrounding the wounded Jack.

They looked up and stared at her all of a sudden, but Peter wasn't paying attention to them and simply ordered them to make way so he could see Jack. She just lied to Pan to save their asses. She didn't look at Marlon but she wouldn't be surprised if he fainted from relief.

"Mercy, come here," Pan called her, bringing her attention to him. "Help me carry him. And everyone else go back to work!" He suddenly shouted at the Lost Boys, setting them in motion like an army of robots, not one of them making a sound or showing hesitation.

Without any further ado, Mercy grabbed the boy, then extended her hand for Peter to grab. As soon as their hands touched, the camp disappeared from view.

"Where are we?" Mercy wondered, not recalling ever seeing this place. From what she could gather from their surroundings, this place was sheltered from the wind and hidden from prying eyes by the side of the mountain.

"At the Spring of Neverland," Pan said in a solemn tone Mercy did not know him. "The source of all magic on this island."

000

Winnie's footsteps were light as she ran through the trees, not losing a second. Something was off, she knew in it her heart. As soon as Mercy mentioned her encounter with Felix she knew things were moving. For the longest time things were to a standstill on Neverland, everybody kept an unspoken status quo. But now it was over, something brewed in the air, like a storm ready to break at the slightest disturbance in atmosphere.

Her feet brought her to a white tree deep in the woods, somewhere near Crocodile Creek. It was their landmark, the spot they agreed to meet whenever they could. Winnie opened her palm and focused – Mercy had only taught her very basic magic, but it was enough to send a signal. She placed her hand against the bark of the dead tree, and it glowed.

Luckily for her she didn't have to wait too long until she got proof that it worked – she was doubtful every time. The familiar rustle of leaves made her ear perk up and she looked in the direction of the noise.

"Winnie?" His voice called her and her heart rate dropped. She feared the day someone would find out about their little forbidden meetings late at night.

"Felix!" She called back, already running towards his voice.

She crashed into his body and clung to him, immediately sobbing in relief. Felix wrapped his arms around her while she hugged him as though her very life depended on it. He had hoped that the news didn't travel so fast, but apparently Mercy kept no secrets from the Lost Girls and so he shouldn't be surprised that Winnie heard about the tree incident. In truth it had been the longest hours of his life. At least he was free now, and she needn't worry.

"I'm fine, just got a little closer to nature than I would have liked," he tried to shrug it off, but Winnie pulled away and looked him in the eyes with a stern expression.

"What on earth happened? What did you do to anger Pan in such a way?" She questioned, trying to find answers to the many questions that plagued her mind from the moment Mercy told her and Dorothy what upset her.

Surely there was matter to be upset about, that she couldn't deny her leader. But it was difficult for Winnie to stand there and pretend to be taken by a contest of archery when all she wanted was for the sun to set so she could find Felix.

Felix sighed and rubbed his neck.

"I don't have much time, I have to be back soon or I'll get way worse than a few hours being trapped inside a tree."

Winnie noticed that he eluded her questions, and while she never refused to spend a bit of quality time with Felix, she wouldn't be brushed off either.

"Tell me!" She urged him. "Mercy was furious when she came back. She said that you tried to provoke her, why would you do that? You know she hates you more than she does Pan!"

She didn't know why, and though she had asked Felix many times and she always told her that he was clueless, leaving her none the wiser. But she suspected he didn't tell her the whole truth.

"Pan was furious because I brought up Mercy without thinking about it." Upon seeing Winnie's outraged expression, he added, "I was mad! It just came out, I didn't purposely push his buttons to get myself prisoner of a tree!"

"Of course you didn't, that's not what I meant," she sighed. "I'm just worried your temper will get the best of you one day. What happened then?"

"When the bark opened up to let me out I expected to see Pan, having calmed down, but when I saw her I just saw red. Somehow I blamed her for my situation, because it was the mention of her name that got me there, and I threw Pan's name in her face, thinking his name might affect her the same way hers did to him."

"It most certainly does not," Winnie scoffed this time. "I have a hard time believing that the mere mention of her name makes Pan snap like that. She mentions him quite a lot, if only to make sure the newcomers are well aware of the danger and don't try to escape in the dead of night."

"Like you do?" Felix couldn't help teasing her, earning an eye roll.

"The point is, Mercy spits out Pan's name once a day to remind us all that he's the source of our misfortune."

"I don't doubt it," Felix said, feeling particularly bitter at the thought.

Of course Mercy would blame everything on Pan and him, as if her misfortune wasn't her own doing. On the other hand he understood, it was much easier to live with yourself when there's someone else to blame for all your troubles. Pan was the perfect scapegoat. He was the villain of so many stories, so why not hers too?

Sometimes Felix thought Pan was the villain of his story too. There was no doubt in his mind that he would've never been promoted to Second in Command had Mercy not left the position vacant. Everyday he lived in her shadow even though she hadn't set foot in the camp in ages. He felt Pan's accusing eyes drilling into the back of his head, resenting him for not being _her_. It was only natural that Felix snapped every now and again, especially when he was only trying to live up to Pan's expectation, even though they were unreachable.

"What's troubling you?" Winnie asked, her bright eyes delving into his in search of some truth.

"Nothing," Felix answered too fast.

He saw determination in the eyes of his sweet Winnie, though the left one was a bit unfocused. He had to constantly remind himself that she too wore scars of her own.

"You're lying again."

"I wouldn't even know where to start if I wanted to," Felix admitted. Exhaustion set in and he was beginning to feel the soreness of his muscle after his endeavors. There was no fight left in him to argue with Winnie of all people.

"Then show me," she said.

Her hand brushed against Felix's and she gently hooked her fingers around his, offering him a gentle smile, one she hoped would be reassuring. There was an unspoken rule between them never to spy on each other's side. Felix had never been allowed near the Lost Girls' camp because of Mercy's system of watch that would immediately betray Felix's presence. Winnie on the other hand, had been to the Lost Boys' camp a handful of times – well, not quite in the camp, but very near. No Lost Girl had ever set foot there apart from Mercy herself.

Tonight was one of those nights Felix would give in to her and lead her to his camp. She had to be careful and watch her steps while she following him, though Felix seemed to make his way through the forest seamlessly, like he knew it by heart and could walk back with his eyes shut.

He stopped and Winnie started, almost bumping into him. He didn't say anything for a minute but the words hung between them. _I don't need to tell you to keep this to yourself_.

Winnie put a hand on his shoulder and together, they walked the last few meters separating them from the cages, where the Darlings still cowered in fear.


	10. Chapter 10

"Why have you kept this from me for so long?" Mercy seethed, growling at Pan who seemed uncharacteristically annoyed with her.

"Must I once again remain you who's in charge here? I don't owe you an explanation, I don't need to tell you everything I know," he snapped, scowling at her in the most vile manner she recalled. "It would even border on stupidity to tell you all my secrets."

"I don't care to know all your secrets Peter, it doesn't matter to me what your favorite color or your lucky number is, but this-" she trailed off, not finding the right words to properly express her indignation. "This is _important_."

"It's only important if I say it is," Pan replied. "It's only important if people disobey me. If the Lost Boys knew what's good for them, we would never have needed the Spring."

Mercy threw her hands in the air, giving up on trying to talk some sense into his megalomaniac brain. If he didn't see the soundness of the reasoning then she couldn't do anything for him anymore.

"So this Spring," she began, shoving aside their argument – for now. "What else does it do?"

"I don't know for sure," Peter said, and for once, Mercy could see he wasn't hiding anything. Peter Pan truly had no idea what the Spring was capable of, other than heal from Dreamshade. "All I know is that all magic on Neverland stems from this Spring, which is _why_ ," he stressed the last word, "I try to keep it hidden from prying eyes, to keep it safe. The less people know about it, the better."

That made much more sense.

"What's the catch?" Mercy asked. If there's one thing Peter did his utmost to drill into her brain during their lessons, it was that magic always had a price.

"You can't be too far away from its waters or the magic wears off and the poison comes back to kill you," Peter answered, his tone quite casual. "But it doesn't really matter since the whole island is attached to it, there's no risk for Jack to die."

"But-" Mercy's eyes widened in realization. "This means he can never leave Neverland!" She protested, absolutely horrified at the perspective.

She shook her head at the thought of this little boy never, ever returning to his land.

"Yeah? So?" Peter asked, getting slowly ticked off by Mercy's ability to complain about every single one of his actions, even when he saved a kid's life he was still the bad guy in her eyes.

The reason why this hurt him was beyond him. Why would he seek her approval in the first place?

"He'll never see his family again!" she exclaimed, angry that she even had to _tell_ him this.

"He won't see them anyway, times passes differently here and there. You should know that."

She did. Mercy knew deep in her heart that her family, her friends, her entire village was long gone. She had been on Neverland for some years now, and there was not a soul left alive in the Enchanted Forest who would recognize her. The Lost Girl, the ageless child who disappeared without a trace years and years ago. She swallowed down the lump in her throat and glared at Pan.

"Still, it wasn't your choice to make."

"It was. I'm the only one who knows about the Spring, the decision to save him or not was in my hands, and I made a choice whether you like it or not."

"I'm just saying... people should have a saying in this..." she insisted. "You just condemned this child to an eternity bound to this forsaken island."

"Would you rather I let him die? You know Dreamshade doesn't kill quick and clean," Peter barked at her. They were now fully arguing in the middle of the forest, away from the Lost Boys who, ridden with guilt, took care of the little Jack.

"I know," she sighed. Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose and she tried to settled down. "But it doesn't make it right."

"I do not care for justice, this isn't a democracy you foolish girl!" Peter shouted. "I am the King of Neverland, I make the decisions, and even if you don't like them, you still keep quiet and follow the orders!"

His outburst shut her up. Mercy pressed her lips into a thin line, accepting her defeat this time. Pan flinched as if he just now realized he had gone too far, because Mercy's reaction was a novelty. She never recoiled, never bent the knee. Not that she did, he could tell this conversation was merely suspended for now, and not yet over.

"Go back to the camp. I need to be alone," he ordered.

Mercy shot him a hateful glare and bowed sarcastically to him, before vanishing.

After this rocky conversation, she distanced herself from him, and while the reasons were unknown to him, Peter suffered greatly from it. Over time he had learned to appreciate her uplifting presence. She challenged him constantly, forcing him to up his game, be better, be stronger, be cleverer. He liked that.

He also liked that she pushed herself to better him. She never settled for what she had, always needed more – she would never admit this but he knew she was greedy. In her previous life she had little to nothing, and suddenly she had all this power at her finger tips. He watched her progress, become master of herself and her magic.

It was a sight to behold. It was a privilege to have a part in it. Although now she didn't let him anymore, as if she finally realized, after over a decade on Neverland, that Peter Pan was in charge.

And for some obscure reason, it bothered him.

"Mercy," Peter called her, startling her.

She was sitting on a branch up in a tree that gave her a spectacular view of the island and the sunset. He had appeared right next to her, the abruptness of it making her lose her balance and nearly fall. But Peter's arm reached out and caught her before she slipped off.

She pushed him away once she was steady again.

"What do you want? In case it slipped past you when people go isolate themselves on top of a tree it means they want to be left alone," she grumbled, sending him daggers.

When a Lost Boy was facing Pan, they looked down in awe and respect. When Pan looked at Mercy she stared right back. In the past ten days, no one had looked him in the eyes.

"I gave you more time than I would to anyone else," he told her.

"Oh and I suppose I should be grateful. Does this mean I'm your favorite now?"

Peter sighed. Her tone was harsh and cold, she wasn't in a position to listen to him. But he had to try anyway, he couldn't go one like this. He missed their banter. He missed the feisty, playful Mercy who recognized him as a worthy adversary, but also stood up for herself and didn't let him boss her around.

"Mercy, you've always been my favorite," Pan admitted, though the words burned his tongue. Her eyes went wide for a split second, then she huffed and looked away. "I wouldn't have trained you so hard if I didn't believe in you. And I train no one else."

"You train Felix," she replied snappishly, before she could stop herself.

Great. This was just perfect, now not only did she look like a brooding child, but she also sounded like a jealous little girl. She leaned back against the bark of the tree and crossed her arms on her chest.

"Not like I do you," he told her calmly. "I don't teach him magic, and not only because he's not receptive to it. I don't tell him Neverland's secrets. You think I keep you in the dark, but I'm the only living soul on the island who knows more than you, you're privy to way too many things for my peace of mind," he explained.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she spat at him, slowly getting annoyed with him for not realizing what the real issue was.

Since that close call with jack, Mercy's mind constantly jumped back to the Spring, to its powers and the side effects of those. She couldn't stop thinking about Jack being tied here, unable to move on from Neverland, from being a Lost Boy. Neither of these words were supposed to be permanent states. Lost. And a boy.

Peter looked sorrowful, a frown etched on his forehead like he was trying to solve a riddle. Mercy hadn't realized her stern glare had turned into a hopeful gaze. Would he see through her and understand the real reason for her aloofness? He was intelligent enough to figure it out. What she feared was that he didn't want to admit it to himself.

Because he didn't know what else to do, and since he wasn't quite ready to know what dark cloud loomed in her mind, he reached out, resting his hand on her knees and opening his palm. Mercy frowned in confusion but her eyes were fixated on his hand, waiting for something. Slowly, a swirl of blue dust materialized, as if coming out of his hand, small shiny dust that slowly formed a recognizable form.

A blue flower, in the image of the one she had first created – with his help, at the beginning of her training in magic. In a rare moment of weakness, Mercy let her guard down, and she marveled at the beautiful flower, her eyes shining as she took it from Peter's hand. First she had expect her hand to grasp nothing but air, but it was solid, like the one she made. The one Peter had tucked behind her ear.

"What is this for?" she asked, all anger gone from her voice.

"It's the closest thing I can give you to an apology," Peter said, then coughed. "I know you don't think you can live happily here. But you can, you'll see." _I'll show you_.

"I wanna go home Peter," Mercy blurted out, now detaching her eye from the gift, though still holding it to her chest. "I don't care if I don't have any family left, I just need to go back."

"Why?"

When the word came out of his mouth, Peter and Mercy both realized that it was the first time he bothered to ask. He never really cared so far to know why she wanted to leave so badly, why she thought the Enchanted Forest was a better place to live and die. Perhaps that was it, he thought, perhaps she wanted to grow old and die.

He could hardly fathom why someone would find solace in that perspective – aging and dying. Especially now that she was the last surviving member of her family. It eluded him, that some people ached for this.

"Because I'm stagnating here. I can't evolve. I will never meet someone knew, I will never be able to have other girl friends, I will never find someone to love, and who loves me," she enunciated as though she had started to make a list of all the things Peter had robbed from her the day he brought her here. "We're frozen in time. Our bodies don't age, don't move, but one day I'm afraid my mind will wither."

"I won't let that happen."

A strange constricting sensation made it hard to breathe for Peter, and he clenched his jaw.

"You won't be able to stop it from happening, Peter." The way she said his name was too sad. "Why do you want me here so badly anyway? I'm not irreplaceable."

But she was.

"I don't know," he told her. He was afraid to think about the answer too long. "But I can't let you go, I just can't.

"I am not your thing, Peter," Mercy barked at him suddenly, moving her legs to get away from his touch. "You don't own me, you can't force me to stay with you!"

At that, Peter saw red. He was trying to use the gentle way and this is what he gets? Couldn't she see the effort he was making? Couldn't she recognize he was meeting her halfway?

"Maybe not, but I won't let you get away from me that easily! If what you seek is escaping from me then you will meet failure. I will follow you wherever you go, I will not allow you to forget me even if you find some way to get off this island!"

Peter stood up. Ready to jump down the tree and disappear. He should never have come to her. Let her brood in silence if that's what she wanted.

"Why do you torment me so?!" Mercy screamed at him, stopping him before he could go. "I am just a girl! Let me go, Peter! Just let me! I am thankful for all that you have taught me, all the time you've put into making me a fighter, but you're keeping me on a leash and it's killing me!"

"I never put you on a leash! You're free to do whatever you want, you have more freedom than I ever granted to anyone else! Can't you see how much I value you, both as a Lost Girl and a companion?!"

There was a pregnant pause during which they stared at each other in stunned silence. Peter just now realized what he said, and he balled up his fists. Mercy's jaw unclenched and she sighed in defeat.

"What is this supposed to mean?" she asked, not sure she understood what he tried to tell her, or perhaps scared that she did.

"It means exactly what I said. Believe it or not, Neverland needs you. _I_ need you," he told her, the words burning his tongue on their way out.

"What for? What makes my presence here so essential?" she pushed him.

"You make this place come to life," Peter replied, shocking her. That was the last answer she would've expected. "Let's make a deal then," he finally said.

It caught Mercy's attention and she sat straighter.

"What kind of deal?"

Peter Pan never made deals that didn't benefit him. He never gambled if he wasn't sure to win.

"A deadline, of sorts," he said in his usual playful tone, as if their upsetting conversation never even happened. "You give me ten more years of your life, and if by then you still want to leave, I'll let you return to your precious Enchanted Forest."

Ten years... it was a long time... But a total of thirteen years and five months had gone by since she set foot on the island. If she survived that long, surely she could handle ten more years. She hesitated for so long that Peter nearly withdrew his proposal, if only as a strategy to make her say yes.

"Alright. It's a fair deal," she concluded, not seeing how he could possibly cheat. "Do I have your word?"

"If in ten years' time, starting from today you're still miserable here, I'll allow you to go home," Pan promised, his open palm on his heart. "But remember, it's a one way ticket."

To both their surprises, Mercy flinched at those words. For a split second Pan was hopeful that she might not hate him as much as she liked to claim. Maybe she would miss him if she left, as twisted the thought may be.

"Will you miss me?" she asked, a cheeky grin on her face.

Peter was glad her frown was no longer, but he enjoyed very little her teasing tone.

"Every second of every day," he told her.

And before Mercy could ask him any more questions he wasn't ready to answer, he vanished.


	11. Chapter 11

Winnie wasn't feeling well and it worried the other girls. She was their anchor, the soothing presence of the camp that put minds at rest and concerns at ease with a mere smile or hand gesture. Although she wasn't bed ridden with high fever, everybody could see the way her eyes kept losing focus, the way she walked like a zombie and hardly slept anymore.

A week had gone by since she wandered on Lost Boy territory with Felix and saw the Darlings siblings in their cage. Not a day went by without her nearly coming clean to Mercy and confessing everything. But where to even start? Admitting she was in a relationship with Felix, whom she hated more than any other living soul on Neverland, and that she frequently sneaked out of the camp to meet him in the forest? She would forever lose Mercy's trust and respect if she found out about that. It would be betrayal.

Then again, the betrayal had already happened. It happened the day she and Felix exchanged their first words. But the loyalty she had towards Mercy and the other girls pushed her to confess, made her feel guilty for not having said anything yet. What had this new girl, Wendy, endured during the week Winnie kept silent? Was she still in her cage, like a scare little animal that was trapped?

It proved too much for Winnie, and she saw the other's worries gazes linger on her when she walked by. Mercy gracefully didn't ask any questions though for once Winnie wished she had. She wished Mercy sat her down and grilled her until she spilled the beans. At least, this way she would have an excuse to tell her everything – she wouldn't have a choice. Or that was what she would tell herself, because while keeping quiet was a betrayal to Mercy, telling her everything would be betraying her love.

Would Felix forgive her sooner than Mercy? At this point, that was what she took into account when she considered confessing. Who would forgive her more readily? Who would she feel less guilty disappointing?

000

The years went by smoothly, like the quiet course of a small river down the mountain side. Peter and Mercy both played along and stuck to their bet. He could see the difference in her behavior already – the very perspective to have a way out of Neverland made her glow like never before. It gave her hope, and for that alone, he was almost tempted to let her leave right away.

If if wasn't for the piercing pain in his chest every time she looked his way or smiled, it would be done at this point. Seven years into their bet, Pan had nearly fooled himself into thinking she was happy here. Mercy hadn't stopped making efforts simply because he promised to let her go in ten years, no. She doubled her efforts, she became even better, even more invested in her training, in her learning of magic and trickery.

Pan didn't show it because she would find a way to use it against him – that was how far she had come – but he was proud and admiring of her spirit. In all his years and all the Lost children he had brought here, he had never met someone who's presence was as uplifting as Mercy's. He had never met someone who didn't break or bend under his relentless verbal and physical beatings.

Then again, perhaps he wasn't so keen on being mean to Mercy. She never upset him for the usual reason – forgetfulness, sloppiness, incompetence. The Lost Boys were mere children and made idiotic mistakes he then had to deal with, but Mercy was born to lead. She was smart and efficient, she was lethal in the same way as a pretty poisonous flower – people would think her inoffensive until it was too late.

He smiled to himself at the thought. Without thinking about it, he conjured one of their blue flowers. It didn't exist in nature, only in the palm of their hands. It was their sign, their silent message to each other whenever something happened. If one of them wanted to apologize they would leave this flower for the other to find. If Pan wanted to congratulate her for her progress, he would made one appear and tuck it behind her ear like he had done the first time.

His chest constricted every time he did so and Mercy relaxed and let him touch her. They spent most of their time sparring and training, avoiding being touched by the other, making it all the more special when they did touch. She found it wasn't unpleasant to have Peter gently push her hair back and tuck a flower in it. It was comforting, as much as she hated to think about it this way.

She was going to leave in three years. It was but a matter of time until she could step off this island and go back to her life.

If she still had a life to go back to, that is.

Her common sense often whispered in her ear that Peter was right in saying that she didn't have anything to go back to in the Enchanted Forest. She stubbornly hoped that nothing had changed in her absence and that she would be able to carry on with her life as if she had never left at all. But that was wishful thinking at best.

Her life, her future, was here now. And a small, emotional part of her had accepted it, however much she dreaded Pan being right in that aspect.

"Mercy!"

Speaking of the devil.

She didn't answer, he could very well find her on his own – the King of Neverland, the almighty Pan whose magic was boundless as long as he stayed on the island.

He had been overlooking the Lost Boys' training. It was a relatively uneventful few years and there hadn't been much happening on Neverland lately. Every few days, there was obligatory training for the boys. Mercy never took part in it, they wouldn't stand a chance in a one on one against her, and she always trained alone with Peter.

That said, she didn't have much else to do, so she often climbed up a tree and observed them. Peter knew she was around, it was only a matter of spotting the right tree and finding her little nest. Soon, she felt a presence behind her.

"Found you," Peter said from behind her.

He was awfully close; so much so that she felt his breath brush against her neck and it made her hair stand on end.

"Congratulations," she grumbled. She had to admit – at the very least to herself – that she showed little to no sport spirit. Peter on the other hand, seemed to enjoy himself quite a lot when she hid away and he had to find her. "I guess next time I'll have to sit on a higher branch."

"No branch is that high," he countered before lazily laying down on the branch next to hers, one arm tucked under his head. One of his legs dangled from the tree while the other was up. "I'm getting bored down there. Should I lower Neverland's defense to let strangers in? Life has never been this dull to memory."

"Only a psychopath like you would consider peace and quiet as boring," she replied, not looking at him.

Mercy sat with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes trained on the boys, meters below. It was getting harder and harder watching them stumble around with wooden swords in their hands. Peter was right, she was bored too, and she was a hypocrite at that, because she wouldn't even acknowledge it.

"I'm not so sure about that," he hummed, swinging his leg back and forth. "You itch for a good fight, I can feel it. You ooze hostility and pent-up energy."

"Maybe you've grown soft and sparring with you has become irksome," she huffed to provoke him.

This time she turned around, if only to watch his face decompose. A smirk appeared on her lips and it made Peter relax again.

"Teasing me, are you? I knew I'd grow on you," he chuckled and returned to his initial sitting position. "You know, I think a great deal of your blatant hostility towards me and Neverland is just an act. You force it because you don't want anyone to think you actually like it here."

"I hate it here, it's a prison."

The words came out before she could think about it. It was a practiced sentence, one she had been rehearsing for years, so much so that it lost its bite. She lost her edge after a while. Peter wasn't entirely wrong and she hated it, she absolutely loathed that she got used to living here and living with him.

"Whatever you tell yourself to feel better," he dismissed her comment. "I'll stick to my end of the bargain but you also have to stick to yours. If you think you can stay here without being miserable, just be honest about it."

A certain woefulness tinted his voice, as though he tried to hide real sadness behind his usual bravado. Something tugged at Mercy's heart but she elected to ignore it and play dumb instead.

"You're deluding yourself, Pan," she spat at him, giving him a scornful look to give with the harsh tone. "What kind of captor are you if you ask your victims to stay willingly in their jail?"

"You're not a victim, Mercy." Peter stood up and joined Mercy on her branch, startling her. She shuffled at bit to put some distance between them.

Not because she was scared, not because she thought Pan was a hateful, disgusting creature she didn't want to be near to. She backed away because her first instinct was to move _closer_. If she didn't watch herself, she would end up reaching out for him.

She had realized, after two decades on Neverland, that while Pan often touched her, she never touched him. And so, since then, Mercy lived in permanent torture. She wanted to touch him, to let her hand brush against his hair, the tips of her fingers run along his jaw, or let her palm rest on his shoulder.

She shook her head.

"Then what am I? You brought me here because you were bored. I'm a pet at best," she scoffed disdainfully and looked away to hide the blush on her cheeks from his view.

Peter hummed to himself while watching her intently, as though she had just said something very interesting worth some pondering.

"What is it, now? What did I say?" she pressed him when he didn't answer.

"It seems I am not the only one deluding myself here," he simply said, leaning on her raised leg. "You don't see it, do you? You're not a victim, or a prisoner here, let alone a pet! You're the one forcing yourself into these roles I've never imposed to you. Don't you realize you could be so much more? You already are, in the eyes of everyone but yours. You could rule this world, you could be a queen!"

Impossible to maintain her mask of indifference after such unexpected words came out of Pan's mouth. Mercy couldn't help herself and gawked at him in the most dumbfounded fashion. Her blush was on full display now, as much as she hated showing Pan any kind of emotion she hadn't carefully selected to show him.

She opened her mouth to answer something but nothing would come out, she simply opened and closed her mouth several times without making any sound. What did he mean by that? Her mind came up with thousands of explanations at a time, confusing her more and more with each passing second. None of them made any sense – or rather, they did, if she thought about it, but it scared her too much to consider them.

"What-" she started, shaking her head as if to get rid of parasite thoughts. "That doesn't-"

She never finished her sentence. Not because she had completely lost her ability to articulate a coherent thought, but because the loud boom of a canon ball being fired interrupted their conversation. Both of them adopted a defensive stance and looked in the direction the sound came from.

Neversea, the Mermaid Lagoon.

On the forest floor below, the Lost Boys stopped moving and looked around, both to find the source of the noise and to find Pan.

Mercy and Pan disappeared from the tree and materialized in the middle of the group of boys, a look of determination and fearlessness on their faces.

It wasn't the best day for a surprise attack – though one would argue that there was no good day for being surprise attacked by a band of pirates. The boys were already tired from their training, and Mercy didn't wear her usual gear. When she had a day off and no special duties, she simply reverted to a dress, feeling it granted her a kind of peace of mind and freedom of movement no practical gear ever could.

She still wore her weapons though, she wouldn't be caught dead without at least a few blades strapped to her body in various places, be it under a dress or pants and a jacket. Peter shifted into King mode and began to bark orders to the Lost Boys, putting together a plan of defense that took into account the general exhaustion of his troops and the landscape.

Mercy crouched down to pick up a broken branch and it turned into a fairly long cutlass. She weighted the weapon in her hand and checked its balance before nodding in approval. It was a good one, she had gotten better over the years. Raising a hand and making a circular gesture, she quickly did the same to the Lost Boys' wooden swords as well, giving them each a weapon adapted to their height, strength and skill.

Felix was given two curved daggers, and he smirked to himself before nodding towards Mercy. They loathed each other, but she knew just how much damage he could make if given the appropriate weapons. She nodded back, then turned to Pan, who was just about done giving his directives.

"Mercy, you follow me," he finally said before setting in motion. "Everyone knows what to do?" he asked, just to make sure.

All of them nodded. Some of them were bound to have questions but they all knew better than to ask Pan to repeat himself. They would all fall into their positions anyway, Felix was supposed to make sure of it, and soon Mercy and Peter would join the ranks as well.

But for now, they rushed into the forest in a different direction than the boys, and Mercy did not question it. There were many things she disapproved of when it came to Pan, but his sense of strategy and tactic were pretty on point, if she might say so. She still had some progress margin in those areas and so she watched and learned.

"You're not battle-ready, I want you to stay back today," he said, ruining the good opinion Mercy had of this tactical sense.

"Not even in your wildest dreams," she simply said, holding up her sword. "Don't argue with me on this, I will fight, even if I have to do it against your wish."

She was more than ready to disobey. He had said it himself only moments before: she needed a good fight. She needed blood and she was going to get it, even if she had to spill some of her own in the process.

Hesitation flickered in his eyes, as if he was weighing the pros and cons. Mercy never broke off their eye contact, she was determined to show him she was ready, not matter her attire. Mercy was always ready to whoop ass, she could do it in her sleep, he had made sure of that.

"If you are in any trouble, any difficulty at all-" he started, looking her dead in the eyes. "I want you to teleport. Either that or you call for me, I'll be there in a split second."

What had gotten into him? Where did this uncharacteristic protectiveness come from all of a sudden? He had never shown any reluctance when the two of them fought, he never went easy on her, and she highly doubted these pirates would challenge her as much as Peter did in combat. So what was his deal? She frowned but nodded nonetheless. There was no time for discussion, and it didn't cost her anything to agree to his condition.

"Come now, we need to know how many of them there are and how heavily armed they are," he told her, gesturing her to follow him.

They continued their hike in the forest and its increasingly steep floor the closer they came to the beach. Mermaid Lagoon was a bit lower off the cliff they were currently climbing. It was at the far end of the beach, were sand gave way to sharp-edged rocks and the waves crashed against the polished parts of the stone, covering the mesmerizing songs.

Peter stopped and held his arm up so Mercy wouldn't walk past him. They stayed under cover. Mercy sheathed her cutlass and strapped it to a belt she materialized for that very purpose. She quickly checked if her other knifes were still in place and then trained her eyes on the pirate ship that anchored in the bay. Five small boats filled with men were approaching the beach.

"Why fire a canon? There's no one on the beach and they could have taken us by surprise if they hadn't," Mercy said with a deep frown on her forehead.

Peter sucked in his cheeks and seemed to be about to implode. She had never seen him so enraged, though he appeared calm on the exterior, she could see the storm brewing behind his eyes.

"It's not just any pirate ship," he told her through gritted teeth. "He wants to provoke me, he's too proud to attack by surprise."

Mercy didn't know what the hell he was going on about. Who was he talking about? Who would give away their chance at victory out of sheer pride? Attacking by surprise gave a non-negligent advantage, anyone knew that.

She cast her gaze back on the ship, trying to spot her name.

"The Jollyroger," Mercy read. "You've had to deal with this ship's crew before?"

"The captain and I have history."

Peter had spat the word "captain" as if it burned his tongue to say it.

"Let's go back," he decided before Mercy could ask questions. "I've seen everything I needed. We need to get ready, because it won't be pretty."

After that, she shifted into fight mode and didn't put Pan's actions into questions anymore. There would be plenty of time to satisfy her curiosity later, for now, it was war time. Mercy ripped open the front part of her dress to make sure she wouldn't accidentally step on it at a crucial moment and fall.

She would be damned if she brought about her own downfall because of a piece of cloth.

"Any specific orders for me?" Mercy finally asked when they reached the group of boys, all standing in line, ready to crashed against the band of pirates like waves at a mere word of their leader and king.

Peter looked over at her with a small smirk.

"No, you do you, as long as you promise to stay alive."

Mercy was many things, but there were two important things she wasn't.

One: she wasn't reckless. Her actions were calculated and she always took the consequences into consideration when she needed to make a decision.

Two: she wasn't cruel.

She returned the smile and took out her sword without looking away from him.

"Right back at you."


	12. Chapter 12

He had given her space – more than he would have liked, and more than she could have hoped for. He had given her time, too, although each second was torture. He gave her everything she needed from the moment she left him to live on the opposite side of the island, where they wouldn't run into each other by accident.

Peter Pan thought himself quite generous in these aspects, even if Mercy liked to think him incapable of such sentiment. He was surprised too at first, but he had realized that he lost all sense of reason when it came to Mercy. She could have asked him for the moon, and Peter would have snatched it out of the night sky to give her on a silver plate. But Mercy didn't know that, she didn't know how much power she had over him because she was blinded with rage.

It was alright: better she hated him but lived with hope in her heart than the other way around. Or so Peter thought, until recently. It weighed on his heart to know she was so close, so near and yet completely out of his reach. Besides, it had become quite evident that she wasn't happy at all, far from it. Had Peter's self-sacrifice meant nothing? He had begun to feel the effects of such constant suffering, it began to show on the island itself. If Peter hurt, so did Neverland, and the same went the other way around too.

When Mercy had burned the clearing, it had scorched him. And when Peter ached, nature withered, heavy clouds hovered in the sky, and everything went silent. After years and years of self-imposed torture, Peter noticed his magic dwindling in a way that should have scared him.

Except he couldn't find it in himself to be alarmed, because he knew exactly why it happened and how to revert it. He just couldn't do it.

For years upon years, Peter had made sure she didn't lack anything. He tasked the Shadow with bringing her food, supplies, everything she could have use of. At first, she sent it all back, too stubborn to accept charity from the one responsible for her misery. She didn't know it had nothing to do with charity. She just rejected it – she rejected him – over and over again. After a white, reason must have overcome her stubbornness because she stopped returning whatever he sent.

Then, one day, Peter had the Shadow bring her a girl. A companion that would fill her lonely days: Dorothy. She had been so broken at this time, so utterly broken. Peter half expected Mercy to burst into his shack and yell at him for bringing yet another girl, for robbing yet another person of their future by kidnapping them and trapping them in this timeless place. But she didn't.

He tried – and failed – not to read into that. Was she simply too desperate and lonely to give up this chance at having company and possibly a friend? Was she more alike him than she liked to pretend and selfishly decided to accept this new _gift_? Hadn't she expected more to come after the first one? Or had she, and did she merely decide not to tell him she didn't want more girls?

These questions haunted him, and to this day, he still wondered, sometimes. Mercy was intelligent and knew the consequences of her actions. It was natural for Peter to deduce that she acted on purpose. Maybe she didn't hate him entirely. Was there hope yet?

He was going to find out today.

Setting fire to his peace offering was a step too far, and Peter had reached the limits of both his patience, and his sanity. If he kept what happened – what _really_ happened – to himself any longer, he was going to implode, and Neverland with him. Therefore he had to tell her – tell her everything he put so much effort into hiding from her.

How would Mercy react to the news?

Surely, she would lash out at him and call him a liar and a cheat. He smirked at the sheer thought. He hadn't seen her in so long that he would take anything, _anything_ at all. She would scream and curse him all she wanted for what he cared, as long as he got to see her again.

Would she be different? She had to be, decades of separation must have changed them both in ways they couldn't even understand. But he knew, deep down, that Mercy would always remain true to herself and stay the Mercy he knew and loved.

Destiny proved to be cruel to him, but hadn't he deserved it? You reap what you sew, and Peter spent a lifetime making a lot of people miserable, therefore it was only right that he got a taste of his own medicine. He hadn't measured the full extent of what separation from a loved one did to a person until Mercy walked away from him and he could no longer pretend that she didn't mean anything to him.

For long he had fooled himself into believing she was but a distraction, a way to entertain himself in a land where hardly anything happened unless Peter grew bored and allowed bad things to happen on purpose.

There was no one like his Mercy, and he stood by that. He wanted her, needed her, and he hoped, despite everything, that she might want him back.

That is, if he came clean to her and managed to convince her he was telling the truth. That would be the most difficult part: making her trust him enough to believe what he said to be the truth. She was wary of him – rightfully and annoyingly so.

Once his mind was made, Peter stood up from the rock he had been sitting on for what felt like the last four hours, and he set into motion. He had wasted enough time already, there was no need to wait any longer to cast light on the truth.

He had convinced himself he was doing the right thing, the magnanimous thing, by hiding the harsh truth, but it hadn't turned out for the better like he had hoped. Mercy lived in delusion now, and she didn't even know it. She was set on an unachievable goal, a mirage he never bothered to tell her was just that. It was high time to fix his mistake.

Without further ado, Peter disappeared from his side of the island, and reappeared on her side, not caring what traps he might walk into or what alarms he would raise. He was the king of Neverland, and as such was allowed to go anywhere he wanted, whether or not it pleased its other inhabitants.

000

"Mercy! Mercy!" Nancy screamed and ran through the woods, whipping her face against small branches in her mad dash.

She could feel blood trickle down her cheeks but did not care, she ran like the devil was after her to find Mercy, wherever she had holed herself up. She wasn't in the best of shape these days, much like Winnie who looked like the entire world weighted on her small shoulders, always lost in her thoughts and exhausted.

Mercy had once against retreated inside herself, shutting everybody out and claiming it was for their own good. The young girl knew better than directly go against Mercy's wishes but she hoped whatever was bothering her would soon go away.

In any case, she would have to push it aside for the time being, because there was a more urgent matter to tend to.

"Mercy!"

Nancy stopped running to take a moment to breathe and pay attention to her surroundings. She listened intently to the sounds of the forest to try and see if anything stood out. There was a rustle of leaves and a crash of a branch, but when she looked up it was nothing more than a squirrel.

"What is it?" Mercy's voice suddenly broke Nancy out of her contemplation, startling her.

It was simply impossible to follow Mercy if she didn't want to, she was invisible and made no sound at all.

"You have to come back to camp!" Nancy immediately urged her, grabbing Mercy's wrist and pulling her along, much to her dismay.

Had it been anyone else, Mercy would have yanked her back and given her a good ear-thrashing for the unceremonious way she grabbed her and dragged her away, but it was small, innocent Nancy. Reluctantly, Mercy followed the little girl.

"What's happening, now?" she sighed.

Nancy stopped again, and glanced in horror over her shoulder, looking as though she was about to freak out completely. Mercy was beginning to think she wasn't alarmed enough, and the situation might call for a little more alertness than she first thought.

"It's Pan. He's here."

These words stabbed at Mercy's chest like a knife, and she stared in shock at the little girl, who, try as she might, could not pull Mercy along now that she was frozen in place.

 _What_?

Peter was here? What was he doing in her camp? What did he want from her? Mercy nearly shook free of Nancy's grip and ran in the opposite direction, but she pulled herself together before she gave in to her cowardly instinct.

It was beneath her to run away from him. He was trespassing on _her_ territory, and _he_ should be the one shaking, not her. Did he think there would be no reprisals? She had to make an example of him now, or her girls would lose faith. He should know that, he was the one who taught her that.

Willing her hands to stay still, Mercy gently removed Nancy's fingers from her arm one by one.

"Meet me there," she ordered right before disappearing.

Nancy stared in surprise, looking at the exact spot where Mercy had stood a second before, blinking slowly. She rarely used magic. What was she to deduce from that?

Back at camp, Mercy strutted out of her hut, where she had reappeared, looking as murderous as any leader would be if an enemy invested their camp. She hadn't been ready to see him; Mercy hadn't expected to have to face him today, not even tomorrow, not this decade.

Yet there he stood, arms crossed, looking abnormally smug and relaxed for someone who was surrounded by a circle angry girls holding various weapons which they pointed at him. Dorothy was clearly behind this formation; she stood among them, holding Pan at blade point with her curved sword. Far from worried, Pan let her tilt his chin back and grinned like he had never seen anything quite so amusing.

"You have no business here. Leave," Mercy growled as soon as she stood behind Dorothy.

The girl would not move a muscle until Mercy told her what to do. If she wanted her to slit Pan's throat she would comply, although it was unlikely to kill him, or even spill a drop of his blood, it would be damn satisfying to watch. But Mercy wasn't petty.

"I don't think so," Peter answer, not dropping his smirk and not detaching his gaze from Dorothy's hateful glare. He had to give Mercy that: she did instill a deep rooted hatred towards him in her girls' hearts. They were all ready to attack with a single word from their Queen Bee. However, he uncrossed his arms and raised both hands up in surrender. "I didn't come all this way just to go back. So let's talk now, alright? We've postponed this conversation long enough."

The air was thick with tension, it was hard to breathe in such an oppressing atmosphere, and Mercy felt her head spin. Summoning a great deal of self-control to stay calm, she reminded herself that they had an audience. Her girls stood there, ready to execute her orders on demand, she had to keep up the appearance that she had things under control. She couldn't look weak, even if she wanted nothing more than to drop her mask of mighty leader and act like the girl she was.

She was hurting. Her eyes pricked her but she couldn't cry. A knot formed in her throat but her voice wasn't allowed to crack. Her legs threatened to fail her but she wasn't allowed to collapse.

Pan knew it. That's why he came. That's why he chose to make their reunion public.

"Stand down," Mercy eventually told her girls.

Dorothy looked unsure for a split second, but she obeyed nonetheless, and so did all the other girls. Peter, now free to move around, stretched his neck and finally looked at Mercy.

Her knees nearly buckled.

"I have nothing to say to you," she spat at him – a blatant lie that she told very poorly and earned her a smirk from Pan. He could see right through it, but not her girls who were so used to Mercy's rash honesty.

Shockingly, he didn't denounce her lie in front of her girls, and simply sighed.

"I do. Will you listen?"

 _No_.

She wanted to say no! To _scream_ it in his face! She wanted to claw at him shirt and rip it to shreds, just like he did to her entire being. A throbbing pain awoke at the back of her head as she battled her inner self, deciding whether or not it was a trap, an excuse to lure her out of camp.

Then again, Pan didn't need to resort to such schemes to get what he wanted. She told her girls otherwise but Mercy was no fool and knew that what they had, they owed to him. He consented to let them have half of Neverland, he consented that they live there. No amount of fighting, even from strong, determined girls, could make Peter Pan do something he didn't want to.

So she relented. Mercy's shoulders slumped ever so slightly; Peter was the only one to notice as all attention was on him rather than her. Whatever he had to tell her, whether she would listen to him or not, Mercy couldn't afford to wash her dirty laundry before witnesses.

She wanted to take this somewhere else, somewhere she could be weak and emotional and not disappoint anyone for it. Peter knew the way she thought and didn't need her to say anything in this moment. He simply extended his hand for her to take, and under the wide eyes of every Lost Girl present, Mercy stepped forward and took it.

They vanished.


	13. Chapter 13

The clatter of iron against iron as swords were unsheathed and brandished filled the air, and war-cries echoes from one side and the other. The Lost Boys might be young but Pan had trained them to fight from day one, and they were deeply loyal and unquestionably devoted to him. They would fight teeth and nails to bring him victory.

Felix stood a few steps to Mercy's left, his grip on his weapon so tight his knuckles had turned white. Her eyes skipped to his face and spotted a devious grin – he was looking forward to the bloodshed, and he probably didn't even feel the pressure in his hand.

Across from them stood the pirate – not in a clean line, no, but in a disorderly group of drunkards. Some of them were old, some of them missed a limb. Mercy would have huffed, however she knew better than to underestimate her adversary based solely on looks. There were seasoned pirates who had survived a lifetime of sea battles and weren't afraid to kill.

She wasn't either. Mercy had never killed a man before, but all her years of training led her to this day, and she refuse to hesitate and fail Pan. He was her captor, but he was also her teacher, her... her friend, in a way, and she wouldn't let him down. Besides, she wouldn't benefit in any way from letting the pirates win this battle, so why even consider holding back?

Disorderly as they may be, the pirates slowly stepped aside and formed a path for their captain to walk forth and stand before Pan. From where she stood, Mercy couldn't see his face, the best she could do was to read his body language. His shoulders were down, relaxed, hands on each side of his body, no weapon.

A good sign, right?

"Peter Pan," the captain said, his voice low and raspy, a testimony to his age and way of life.

He looked in his mid-thirties, rather tall, though not particularly broad or muscular. Then again, he was a pirate, not a soldier. When one trod on the treacherous sea, being lean, swift, and deft provided more advantage then being large and brawny.

On his hips hung a long-sword to the left and a short cutlass to the right. She could also spot a pistol tucked inside his open coat, and suspected he carried more hidden weapons under his clothes, or perhaps in his boots.

He did also miss a hand, and that was the strangest part. In its stead was a hook – not the most practical replacement, if you asked Mercy.

"Long time no see, old friend," he added when Peter didn't answer to his previous greeting.

Pan crossed his arms over his chest, and Mercy tightened her grip on her cutlass. She didn't miss the way he stood straight and planted his heels in the ground. Most of the time, peter sought sources of entertainment, as he grew bored very easily, and Mercy would have thought this pirate attack was just the thing to lift his mood, and instead he grew tense and showed no sign of enjoying himself.

She could guess the scowl on his face, the glare in his eyes. The pirate seemed unfazed by this, as did most of the others.

"Not long enough," Pan scoffed, gritting his teeth. "Wasn't last time enough for you? Did you come to get your other hand chopped off, _Hook_?"

The nickname was clearly meant to mock the pirate, and it worked a little. Mercy saw the slight waver in his smirk, the twitch in his eye. This man hated Pan with all his being, there was no doubt about that. He forced another big smile on his face, knowing it would infuriate Pan.

It was so troubling to see the roles inverted – Peter so serious and his enemy smiling.

"You know why I came back – and why I'll keep coming back again, and again, and again..." he trailed off, holding up his hook and twirling it around.

It caught the sunlight and hit Mercy in the eye, making her blink to get rid of the black spots in her vision. Her instincts told her something was amiss, that little show of hubris wasn't merely destined to rile up Pan, it was a distraction.

"Peter watch out!"

Mercy barely had the time to scream. She lurched forward, taking a small knife from a Lost Boy's hand and throwing it towards Pan.

It hit with sharp precision the other knife, deviating it from his trajectory and saving Pan from a potentially ugly face scar.

Everyone stood still and stared at her, Peter too, while Mercy didn't dare move. Her hand was still in the air, her breath short, and her eyes darted on the two knifes now lying in the sand.

"I see you haven't changed your lowly ways," Pan sighed, focusing back on Hook. When he spoke, the tension broke, and Mercy let her arm fall back to her side. "Nothing's beneath you apparently."

"I believe the end is more important than the means," Hook replied, grinning as if he hadn't really expected this to work, but did it anyway because it was fun to watch the look on Pan's face.

The man who had thrown the knife smirked to himself; he was already playing with another knife, twirling it between his fingers like only a master knife thrower could. Mercy memorized his features and took a mental note to go after him first once the fight broke out.

"See, this is were you're mistaken, and also why you'll never beat me," Peter huffed, now visibly enjoying himself, and even more so when Hook's smile faltered. "The means are _everything_."

That was one lesson he had made sure to teach Mercy from the very first day she came here. Twenty years that she heard him say the same thing. Hook clearly hadn't learned his lesson.

"And the end should always be-" Pan opened the palm of his hand, and a sword appeared with a swirl of pixie dust. "-a surprise."

All hell broke loose.

000

Pan and Mercy had reappeared in the very clearing that she destroyed not long ago. The ground was still smoking, their shoes black from the ash blown by the wind. Peter wanted to show the destruction she left in her wake. He wanted a dramatic setting, too. Sometimes, the right context was required to say something.

From the moment they materialized there, Mercy had stubbornly refused to open discussion and simply stormed away. Was she upset by his choice of place? She should be; she was the one who had burnt it to the ground.

Still, he ran after her, made her stop. When she neared the edge of the clearing and tried to enter the forest, Pan rose his hand and cast a spell. As soon as Mercy stepped into the forest, she reappeared on the other side of the clearing, looking confused, then frowning, and glaring at Pan.

"Don't use your tricks on me!"

"Then stop running away!"

"I don't have to listen to you, Pan. I don't owe you anything."

He shook his head, rubbing his face with both hands and turning around. With a groan, he squatted down, letting his frustration with the girl have the best of him.

"Undo the spell," she demanded.

He heard her walk towards him, heard the muffled sounds of her steps approach from behind. He recognized the defiance in her voice, and everything in him screamed to answer it.

"No."

"Then I guess we'll never get out of this clearing," she said, chin up, eyes burning with anger and the unmistakable glimmer of sadness that always danced there. "I don't care what you have to say."

"Yes you do! You do, because otherwise you wouldn't have come here with me; you're scared of your own reaction, that's why you didn't want to talk in front of your Lost Girls!"

That was it. Mercy lurched forward and jumped at his throat, claws out – metaphorically speaking. Peter reacted a bit late but his reflexes had always been better; he blocked her kick without much effort and knelt down to swipe her off her feet.

Mercy fell heavily to the ground, lifting up a cloud of ash that made them both cough.

She hadn't had a decent opponent in quite some time and had become rusty after all these years. Nothing whipped her blood quite like a good fight with somebody who could stand their ground and didn't cower away from her blows.

"You wanted my attention?! You have it now, I'm done walking away."

There was a time for avoiding confrontation, and then there was a time to face your demons. Mercy's personal demon stood before her, and she was tempted, so tempted, to listen to him. She had to remind herself that she had – she had spent years listening to him, and it got her nowhere.

In a fit of uncharacteristic rage, she made a quick hand-gesture, her fingers tightly pressed together, and she slashed the air before her. The wind bent to her will and rushed towards Peter, cutting like a sword. He only shorty avoided having an ear cut off and retaliated with an attack of his own. The ash on the ground lifted up and blinded her for a moment, making her cough and struggle to breathe until it fell down, and Pan had disappeared.

Except he hadn't really, he wanted her to listen to him, and he wouldn't rest until he got what he came for. She darted her eyes around, blinking back tears and protecting her airways with her hands.

"Don't be a coward now!" she shouted in the empty place, though the goosebumps on her back told her he wasn't far.

Movement on her left caught her eye and she attacked before checking if it was Pan or an innocent squirrel. Fire, blue as her flowers, erupted in Mercy's palms, and she let it lick her arm, feeling nothing. You can't get hurt by your own magic, Peter had once told her. She threw a fireball towards the moving thing, not caring what or who it was. The clearing was a scorched land anyway.

"Stop it, Mercy! You've done enough damage to this place!" she finally head his voice, and there he stood.

He was merely a few steps away from her. The fool dared looking concerned, and Mercy saw red when she spotted that glimmer of worry in his eyes and recognized it. He couldn't look at her like that! He wasn't allowed to! She didn't know why she was fighting him anymore, but after decades of doing just that, she wasn't sure she knew how else to behave in his presence. Was there a time they got along? She could swear that yes, but it was a painful and distant memory.

Running on adrenaline and fury alone, Mercy cried black tears of ash and soot while throwing fireballs at Pan who deflected all of them, sending them towards the already burnt down trees or extinguishing them – until finally he caught one.

Mercy paused, expecting to be on the receiving end of an attack soon, but he didn't move and the fireball simply burnt away in his hand. It didn't look like it hurt him either, but Mercy wasn't too surprised about that. What was he doing? He stared at her, long and hard, and she could read hesitation in his veiled gaze – veiled with an emotion she could not name – before eventually closing his fist on the dancing blue flame. A thin trail of smoke swirled in the air, but no fire.

This fight, however brief, had been intense for them both and it was hard to see anything around them, or even breathe for that matter, what with the ash in the air filling up their lungs. To Mercy, it didn't make that great of a difference, as far as memory went, she had always felt a bit short on air around Peter. Still, she hadn't used this much magic in a lifetime, and she felt the effect it had on her body.

Mercy froze to calm her her heartbeat and even her breathing while Pan stood across from her, his chest heaving too. Her rage and incomprehension grew tenfold when she realized he wasn't fighting her at all - he didn't attack her but simply blocked her attacks. It wasn't what she wanted. Mercy was in for blood, she wanted him to answer her blows, she wanted bruises and cuts and dizziness. Any physical pain would be better than the constant emotional turmoil she had been living in for decades.

"What are you doing? Why don't you fight back?" she barked at him, seeing red. Pan looked diminished, like a flower who hadn't seen the sun in too long. A sad glimmer sparked in his eyes; he said nothing. "Do something!" Mercy yelled and attacked yet again. "Hit me! C'mon! I said hit me!" With each word, she threw another punch or attempted another kick. "Why do you stay there like that?"

"I don't want to hurt you," he finally told her after deflecting her last strike. Mercy bore no wound from this one sided fight but her ego took a blow upon hearing that.

"Do you honestly think I'm that easy to beat? Do your worst, Pan. If I go down I'll take you with me."

"I don't want to beat you, Mercy!" His voice echoed through the forest and all other noise quieted.

No leaves rustling, no howls hooting. Not a sound. Mercy froze and tilted her head a little bit to the side. She hadn't heard him use her name in forever. A strange ache in her chest almost made her drop her defensive stance but she knew better. He had taught her better.

"I only want to talk," Pan continued. Exhaustion transpired in his voice, and it wasn't the physical kind. There was weariness in his eyes and in his heart.

"I don't care what you have to say. Whatever it is, you're are decades too late. Let your fists speak or leave me the hell alone!"

Mercy was blinded by rage and pent up frustration. She wouldn't be open for discussion unless she got her fight and Pan was aware of that. So he gave her want she wanted. Peter abandoned the idea of getting through to her without fighting, and he retaliated each of her previous attacks. She wanted to have it the hard way? He would give it to her.

Magic wasn't needed at the moment, magic was for fighting from a distance, and Mercy and Peter wanted to fight hand to hand. The blow that tipped the balance in Pan's favor was the one where he kneed Mercy in the lower stomach, cutting her breath, and making her stubble back. She crossed her arms in front of her face to protect herself but the cutting wind Peter cast her slashed through her skin and blood began to run down her arms and to her elbows.

He was giving her a taste of her own medicine by using her own attacks on her now that they fought for real. She hadn't expected anything less from him, and smirked before wiping some soot off her face to see clear. It left a trail of sticky blood on her cheeks and the bridge of her nose but she didn't care.

Her legs ached after Pan managed to tackle her on the ground, sending a flash of pain through her spine, though she used that position to wrap her legs around Peter's waist and secure them by locking her ankles together before rolling them over. A small knife appeared in her hand just as she was going to slam it in Pan's face, but he blocked it at the last second, pushing upwards while she leaned forward to put all her weight on her blade.

They fought dirty, both of them. There was no honor in the way they did each other dirty and attacked from the back, or used what they knew about each other to gain advantage, even for a second. Mercy wanted to throw up, she hated herself for participating in this masquerade and giving in to her foulest yearnings. If she hadn't been so busy dodging out of way at an increasing fast pace under Peter's unrelenting attacks, she might have broken in tears and given to her earlier urge to collapse and cry until she felt better.

She had asked for it, and she had gotten it. Mercy finally got some bruises of her own, along with split lip and several cuts all over her arms. The only way this was going to end, was with one of them stepping out, or stepping over.

It all finished in a split second, when Mercy used the knife she materialized earlier to throw it at Peter while he stood up from the ground where she had sent him flying. It hit him.

Pan grunted in pain when the knife entered his flesh and pinned him to the tree behind him. The pain was vivid and exhilarating - he hadn't felt this alive in years! Though it probably had little to do with the blade buried in his shoulder and everything to do with the fire he saw dancing in Mercy's eyes.

All the anger, all the resentment was gone in a flash.

When her weapon hit her target, she gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, dropping her stance. Her eyes widened in shock. She bad expected him to dodge. The realization that she never expected to actually hit him came crashing down. In truth, she knew Pan was stronger, faster and more powerful than her, she never even dreamed of getting the upper hand in combat with him until this very moment. Seeing him clench his teeth so hard his face become red with effort took her aback.

"Nice trick," he complimented her. An old habit of their teacher-student years. "Didn't see it coming."

It was true too. He didn't let her have this small victory just to flatter her ego. Mercy had won this round on her own.

"I never- I thought-" she stammered, unsure of what to say. "You didn't move out of the way."

"Well isn't that the whole point of throwing a knife at someone? You should be savoring the moment because it's the last time it happens."

Now Pan ground his teeth and reached for the handle, bracing himself before pulling the knife out with a loud curse. Mercy lurched forward when she saw him collapse but he didn't need her and quickly recovered from the action. She was the one to collapse first, feeling too worn out and wobbly on her feet to stand anymore. Mercy had been feeling hopeless, devoid of motivation to carry on and live. And now she understood why with full force. What do you do when the person you'd lay down your life for is the one killing you? Pursuing an answer to this philosophical question was bound to rob her of many nights' sleep. But that was what she felt when she saw Peter.

"Mercy, all I ask is that you listen. You've never given me a chance to explain."

"To explain _what_ exactly? Why you went back on your word and didn't keep the promise you made me?" she barked at him, hissing like a thrashing snake whose tail had been stepped on. "To explain why you let me believe I had a chance of leaving Neverland for ten long years and then took that hope from me? You're a liar and a cheat, and that's the only explanation!"

Tears had welled up in her eyes but Mercy would be damned if she shed but one. He wasn't worth crying over, at least not when he could see her tears.

"You're a deceitful snake, and I should never have trusted you! I never- I should have-"

Uncontrollable sobs interrupted her sentences, but she swallowed them back too and took deep breaths until she was calm again. Mercy blinked a few times to get rid of the tears in her eyes before meeting Peter's bereft gaze.

"I never meant for things to go like this, Mercy. I intended to go through with my promise when we made that bet. I swear I never intended to deceive you," he lost himself in apologizes, holding up his hands in surrender. "Please, let me tell you the truth now. I can't bear it anymore..."

"You- you can't _bear it anymore_?" Mercy now sobbed and laughed at the same time, hysteria having subsided anger. "How dare you even say that to my face? You're the one who lied! You've the one who put us in the situation in the first place! You have no _right_ , Peter! No right!"

"I can't bear to see you miserable anymore," he corrected her, effectively making her stop speaking and stare ahead of herself, eyes loosing focus. "You'll never move on if I don't tell you what happen-"

"Mercy! Mercy!" alarmed shouts cut off Peter in the middle of his sentence and brought Mercy back from her trance-like state.

Her might became alert again and she looked around, searching for the source of the shout. She had recognized that voice: Dorothy.

"Mercy," Peter said her name, begging her with a single, desperate look to not answer that call and listen to him. "Please."

She looked at him and a familiar wave of unrestrained attraction washed over her, nearly forcing her to take a step towards him. His eyes pulled her to him, they were like an extended hand, asking her to trust him one last time.

"Mercy! Mercy where are you? Something happened!" came Dorothy's voice again, urging Mercy to make her choice.

Her heart ached like it split in two – she was torn, between love and hate; between trust and spite; between the past and the future. She shouldn't be, she should know better than even consider Peter as an option.

Never in her long life had she been so painfully aware that she still had a foot in the past, and its grasp on her was firmer than ever. Peter was right, she was miserable and she hadn't moved on from their tumultuous past, so perhaps he was worth listening to if he was bent on telling her the truth behind his motivations.

On the other hand, she couldn't simply run from her responsibilities now that the Lost Girls counted on her. Each of her decisions had consequences, and Dorothy's tone bode nothing good.

Both Peter's wide-eyed stare and Dorothy's pressing calls proved to be nerve wrecking for Mercy as she tried to make the wisest choice. Over time, she had made a great number of mistakes, and she liked to think she had learnt from them.

Therefore, right as she as on the brick of going mad with indecision, she opted for the opposite of what she wanted to do – because she couldn't rely on her heart to help her make the right decision, even after years of trying to harden it.

"I'm here, Dorothy!"


	14. Chapter 14

It was surprisingly easy to kill someone, Mercy thought to herself when her blade entered the man's chest. It was the one from before, the knife thrower. She had lunged forward with such force, expecting to encounter some kind of resistance, but finding her blade penetrated flesh like butter.

She drew it out of his chest, dripping with blood, and let the lifeless body collapse to the ground in a thud. Crazy eyes wide open stared at nothing in particular, and Mercy had to tear her gaze away from the corpse lying at her feet to focus back on the fight. The most difficult part was over now, she had had her first kill, and had found it oddly effortless. You would expect humans to be less easy to kill, but they were.

She wiped the blood off of her sword on the dead man's pants, and went back to work. There were many more to try her blade on. The pirates outnumbered them five to one, and many of the Lost Boys were still young – and would forever remain so – and not in any way built to hold their ground against a full-grown belligerent adult with a _penchant_ for the bottle.

When she told Peter she wanted to participate, she hadn't realized just how much of a difference her presence would make, but seeing how many throats she saved from a pirate blade so far, it made all the difference. Where was Peter anyway? Had he left his boys to be slaughtered? Mercy knew he wasn't like that – as much as she hated to admit it, he did have a code of conduct and would not abandon his troops.

The edge of her sword slashed another throat, hitting the carotid if the amount of blood gushing out of the wound was any indication. Peter had taught her where to plunge her knife to kill a man, but right now, Mercy wasn't doing much precision work. She relied on sheer force and nearly beheaded them.

"Mercy!" somebody screamed, and she ducked immediately, rolling aside to dodged whatever or whoever was coming for her.

She stood back up behind a tree, looking around to see who had warned her and finding Felix standing atop a boulder, only moving when she gave him a sign she was alive. That cockroach was useful sometimes, what do you know?

"Mercy! Mercy!" someone else screamed.

It did not sound like a warning this time, and Mercy sprung forward in search of whoever called for her help. Most of the younger boys knew she would come to their rescue sooner than Pan, even though they obeyed him and him only. When she reached the source of the cries, she understood.

It was little Jack, sprawled on the ground, disarmed. The wicked grin of the pirate looming over him made him cry out once more.

"Please, mercy! Don't kill me!"

He wasn't called for her, he was begging for _mercy_. But Mercy was still too far and she didn't reach them in time to stop the inevitable. She heard the stomach-churning gurgles of the poor boy when the sword entered his chest, puncturing his lungs which promptly filled with blood.

The pirate didn't bother finishing the business and let the boy choke on his own blood until death. Mercy's blood boiled with rage, she didn't see straight, she didn't think straight, she didn't think at all and simply jumped out of the shadows, screaming at the child murderer, sword ready to cut off his head and throw it into the Mermaid Lagoon.

"Murderer!" she shouted, seeing red.

His ugly smirk did not disappear, quite the contrary, he seemed delighted that his next victim came to him.

"Well, well, what do we have here? This is new..." he trailed off, slurring and waving around his sword.

A little voice at the back of Mercy's brain – that sounded an awful lot like Peter's – went on about how this wasn't the proper way to handle a sharp blade, and he didn't adopt the right stance if he wanted to defend himself. Did he mean to attack first? He didn't look like it, Mercy couldn't pick up any visual clues as to what he was going to do next. Those damn pirates! Couldn't they ever do something the right way?

"Pan doesn't take no girl! How'd you end up 'ere lassie?" he asked, as if it was any of his business.

Mercy scoffed and showed him her teeth, like an angry snake whose tail he had stepped on.

"Oh, no need for that kinda behavior!" he laughed, obviously not taking her seriously.

She would make him regret that in a minute, no need to waste her time and spit on him in trying to tell him wrong.

"He was only a child! How could you?! Do you have no honor?!" she snapped, trying to understand the reason behind his action, though she knew it was pointless task. Pirate were reputed for having no honor after all.

"Kid or no, he was on the wrong side," the pirate said with a toothless grin, rolling his 'r' and slurring slightly.

This was a huge waste of time. She should get on with it. Still, she didn't like how confident this man seemed, even though she already assessed that he was no threat to her.

She dived forward, dodging his blade and swiping him off his feet. He wasn't fast enough to react in time and simply fell heavily on the ground, briefly loosening his hold on the handle of his sword. It was enough for Mercy to stand up and kick it out of his hand. She towered over him, the tip of her blade poking into his cheek until the first drop of blood oozed.

"Any last words, coward?" she seethed, hissing the words instead of speaking normally.

Jack... he was the youngest, the most innocent. He was also the one she had saved from imminent death once upon a time, when he had been touched by Dreamshade. In the end, he left Neverland the only way he could... in death. It was the ugliest thought Mercy had had in a long while and she quickly shook it away.

"Do _you_?"

Mercy raised a brow, then something hit her at the back of the head and everything went dark.

000

The moment Mercy left him alone in that clearing, Peter was so distraught that he didn't even think about the loop spell that prevented her from walking away, and so she ran off into the forest. Their reunion went about as well as he thought it would, but that was to be expected after everything that happened between them. They had a lot of baggage, a confrontation such as the one that took place tonight was bound to happen, and bound to be a hideous one.

Still, he wished he could have told her what he came to say before she ran off, called by her trusted Dorothy. Something must have happened. He would do well and go back to his camp to see if it was anything worth his attention. Whatever caused trouble on Neverland was his business, after all.

000

"What did you just say?" Sybil seethed between her teeth, standing taller than she was.

A hush fell over the Lost Girls' camp right as Winnie whispered out what trouble her so. All day she had been shaking, unable to focus, slowly losing her inner battle against herself. _Please, let Felix forgive me for what I'll do_.

"The Lost Boys have captured a girl. She's their prisoner now," she repeated what she had just confessed to one of her friends, unable to keep this secret to herself any longer. A life was a stake. Winnie could keep a secret as long as it didn't harm anyone, but this was too important to keep silent.

"How do you know that?" Sybil questioned, standing right beside her.

Winnie was much taller than Sybil but her cowered form sitting on a rock looked small and weak in comparison to her feisty friend. Sybil's hand held tight onto her dagger, rage boiling in her veins.

"Please, don't ask me that," Winnie whined, begging now. "I know I should have told you sooner, but I couldn't- I couldn't tell anyone. Even now, I shouldn't be telling you."

"How can you possibly know this, Winnie?" Sybil insisted. "We're all dying to know, c'mon now. There's no secret between us, you know that."

If her voice was sweet and honeyed it wasn't the outward reflection of her heart. Sybil's anger brewed in her stomach, sending shockwaves of fire and ire throughout her body. Her fingers prickled with pent-up rage.

"Sybil, please…"

"Are you begging now? That's unworthy of you, have you learned nothing? Only the weak beg! Are you weak, Winnie? Weak enough to fool around with Lost Boys?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sybil, just please, believe me. And believe me when I say that I had a reason not to come clean sooner," the young girl continued to plead her friend, under the conflicted gazed of all the girls in the camp.

Betrayal. That word was written all over their faces. She had betrayed them by not disclosing this information as soon as she found out, no matter how. Sybil was rightfully angry, though maybe excessively so, and against the wrong person.

"Mercy knows about it too, then. There's nothing on this island she doesn't know about, and certainly nothing of this importance," Dorothy spoke up, walking forth to stand next to Winnie and place a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Immediately, Winnie leaned against her friend, her hand grasping onto her arm.

"You trust me, right? You know I wouldn't betray any of you!"

Dorothy only gave her a tight-lipped smile and a little nod, not convinced but willing to give Winnie a chance to explain herself later.

"Then Mercy has betrayed us too!" Sybil spat on the ground, causing a few shocked whispers to erupt in the crowd around them. "All girls on this island belong with us. It's the rule. Pan has no right to keep one of us prisoner!"

"There must be another explanation," Dorothy intervene to try to simmer down her friend's bout of anger. "If Mercy knows, she has got to have a solid reason for not doing anything about it. There's too much we don't know about this-"

"We know enough!" she cut her off. Some girls around them voiced their agreement, nodding along with what Sybil said. "We know that there is a girl in the Lost Boys' camp, that's she's been thrown in cage like an animal and she's scared and needs saving!"

"What if she's dangerous?" Dorothy asked. "What if there's a good reason for her to be in a cage? Pan has honored our agreement for decades now, why would he break our truce for one girl?"

"You would attach the word 'honor' to Pan's name?" Sybil full-on mocked her, a few laughs from other girls joining her. "He doesn't know its meaning. Today he proved it by showing his face right here!" She gestured around her. "He disregarded our mutual understanding that each should stay within their own territory, and came to our camp as if he owned the place!"

"You've heard the same stories about him as I have, Sybil, don't you forget that! We all know what he's capable of, if he wanted to act against us, he wouldn't have come all this way, or bothered to parlay with Mercy!"

"And you forget who he is! He stole us from our homes, he brought us here to our doom!"

"I hadn't forgotten. I know very well who and what he is. But I still advise caution. We should wait until Mercy comes back, she'll tell us what he wanted."

"No, she won't! She doesn't tell us anything anymore," someone else said.

Sybil pointed her dagger in the direction of the girl who spoke.

"See? I'm not the only one who noticed that Mercy has gone soft. She doesn't have our best interest at heart anymore; hasn't for a long time."

"You don't mean that."

"But I do! We all saw her take his hand! She chose to leave with him instead of fight with us! We could have taken him!"

"Now you are just deluding yourself. He's been here for longer than any of us can imagine, growing stronger and stronger. None of us can take him, save perhaps for Mercy if she deigned use her magic."

"So you admit that we had a chance if she had stayed… ?"

"No, I-" Dorothy was going to rip Sybil's throat out. She forced herself to breathe in and out to calm down before speaking again. "We need to bring this to Mercy's attention, ask her what she knows."

"You said it yourself: she already knows. She has to!" Sybil barked back, gaining another round of approval from the other girls. Dorothy didn't like the turn of events. Winnie still clung to her, just as worried about the quick escalation of this already bad situation. "Besides, she's been out of it for a while now. The Mercy I know and love has withered away with each passing year since the moment I arrived. What help could she be to this poor girl that we can't?"

There was a long list of things that came to mind when Dorothy thought about Sybil's rhetorical question, but it wasn't the right time or context to bring it up. There was truth behind her words too, Mercy had been terribly absent lately, in every sense of the term. Something weight heavy on her mind and she had to resolve her own problems before attending to any newly arisen one.

"Watch what you say," Dorothy growled now, having sensed that she needed to step up and hold her ground against Sybil if she didn't want the situation to seriously degenerate. "You don't know what you're talking about or what she has to deal with. You're not the leader here, Sybil, remember your place."

"Oh, and here we go. Miss second in command finally shows her face. Why bother acting like you take this role to heart now? You never do. We don't need your help either. This is merely a rescue mission. If we do it now, while Mercy hold's Pan's attention, we can be back in no time."

"There is no mission!" Dorothy snapped, making sure to meet the other girls' stares too. "Only Mercy decides when there's a mission."

"She's not in the right mindset to make any decision right now. I'm making the decision for her. No girl should be left behind. We should go get her before she comes back."

"It's not your call to make! No one's leaving the camp until she returns and I talk to her."

" _You_ talk to her?" Another girl now spoke up, before Sybil could say anything though she had already taken a step towards Dorothy to challenge her. "Why is it always you, Dorothy? We want to hear it too. This concerns all of us."

"This is mutiny," Winnie whispered to herself – only Dorothy heard her, and her heartbeat picked up at those words.

She didn't have any control over this situation and Sybil was taking advantage of it. She has always been a hot head and a stubborn one at that, but this was taking it a notch too far. This was a betrayal that ran deeper than Winnie's retention of information.

Part of her thought Sybil was using this girl, the prisoner, as an excuse to wage war against the Lost Boys and defy Mercy's authority. It was in her nature, her temper. She was belligerent and restless, she wanted to fight. And this poor girl imprisoner in Pan's camp was her Helen of Troy.

As much as she hated to admit it, Dorothy couldn't hardly deny Sybil's talent to galvanize the girls. They were more than ready to follow her right into the lion's den at this point, and she wasn't even done playing her cards.

"We can all talk to her, this isn't the point," Dorothy spoke again to try and settle everybody's worries. "I promise you, she would never leave a girl to fend for herself without a solid reason. Either that or… she doesn't know."

"Okay, okay," Sybil conceded, her condescending tone making Dorothy's hairs stand on end. She would need to teach the girl a lesson next time they sparred together – such insubordination was on the verge of treason. "Let's say she doesn't know. Then what? She's still a mess. She's still holed up somewhere. Who knows how long this will last? She's disappeared for days on end before."

The girls all voiced their agreement again.

"I say we take matters into our own hands," Sybil declared, rather smugly.

"Yes!" the girls shouted in unison.

"I say we leave her out of that and march to the Lost Boys' camp to free the girl they captured, and take back what's ours!"

"Yes!" The clamor gained in volume, the girls threw their fists in the air, showing their support.

"And I say we have waited long enough already," Sybil added more quietly, looking down on Winnie who cried silent tears of guilt and fear of what she provoked. "We gather arms and leave as soon as we a re ready. Who's with me?"

Cheers and screams of support answered her question. Winnie let go of Dorothy's hand at long last and broke into loud sobs, while her friend remained put, her heart hammering in her chest, head pounding – she needed to stop the inevitable. She needed to find Mercy before it was too late.


End file.
